Forgiveness is the final form of love
by silverbirch
Summary: Eighteen months after the battle, Hermione is a volunteer in a soup kitchen, aiding those cast aside by Voldemort's defeat. So, what's HE doing standing in the queue for a handout? Can she put aside her her hatred and reach out to her oldest foe?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note. **I always said I'd never write a Dramione, so here it is. Your comments and / or criticisms are very welcome.

I must thank my wonderful beta **xCailinNollaigx** (.net/u/1651980/) for her sterling efforts. She's also a fine writer, and I would strongly advise you to read her latest story "The Founder Heirs".

* * *

**"Human forgiveness does not do away with human justice."**

_Lewis B. Smedes - The Art of Forgiving: When You Need To Forgive And Don't Know How_

* * *

Hermione Granger came through the door and quickly shut it behind her to stop what little warmth there was in the room from escaping. Brushing the snow from her robe, she took it off and then blew into her cupped hands.

'That is COLD out there' she said to the other people gathered in the still shuttered kitchen.

'Well, let's get this soup on to warm then, it might heat the place up a little' said Hannah Abbot, almost unrecognisable under layers of jumpers. 'You can start cutting the bread.'

As the kitchen began to heat and the various volunteers bustled around, conversation levels rose. It was mainly superficial stuff; how work had been, what they were doing that night, and how cold it was outside.

The war had ended over eighteen months ago and Hermione was in the "drop-in" centre just off Diagon Alley, as she was every Saturday, to serve tea, soup and bread to those who had ended up on the losing side, but not done enough to warrant a lengthy sentence in Azkaban**. **Money was always tight, and the food had to be strictly rationed – one cup, one bowl, one slice per person. Queues formed long before the doors opened, and sometimes there wasn't enough to go round.

As she was working full-time at the Ministry, Saturday was the only day Hermione could spare to serve. She did help out with organising fundraising though, as it took a considerable amount of time and effort just to keep the place open. Various charities had sprung up to help people who had lost families, business and homes to Voldemort; so there was precious little left for those who were considered his sympathisers.

Requests for donations were often met with very blank refusals. 'Let 'em starve; it's no more than they deserve.' 'D'you think they'd be having collections for us if they'd won?' 'They were all high and mighty; they can dig in their own pockets.' These were some of the more publishable comments that came back, and even they have been edited.

Hermione had actually been spat at, once, when she was out collecting.

'Get out of here, you bloody Death Lover. What did you do in the war?'

She'd pulled her hood back and looked the man in the eye. 'A few bits and pieces. What about you?'

His jaw had dropped; Hermione was probably the most famous witch in Britain, if not the World.

'Sorry, lo…Miss Granger, I mean. No offence meant, not to you personally.' He scurried off, having dropped a few knuts in her tin.

-o0o-

At exactly 12 o'clock the doors were opened and the "clients" shuffled in. As always a couple of Officers from Magical Law Enforcement were on hand, but they were never needed. Every one of the people coming in knew they would be thrown out if they caused trouble, and they didn't have the energy to waste. They shuffled towards the serving hatch, forming a ragged but orderly line.

Hermione thought they must resemble those who had been kissed by a Dementor, except these people hadn't had their souls sucked out of them, though. If anything, it was worse. Their souls still existed but had been crushed slowly and remorselessly; crushed by months of starvation and lack of hope.

These were not ex-Death Eaters. The real war criminals had been rounded up or were still on the run and being hunted down.

No, these wretches were former snatchers, who had maybe spent a few months in Azkaban, or servants from the great houses who had been thrown out of their work and tied accommodation when their Masters were arrested. They were shop-keepers who had put up notices saying "No Mudbloods, Half-Bloods or Blood Traitors served on these premises" mainly to avoid midnight visits from Voldemort's enforcers; but once the war was over they had neither been forgotten nor forgiven and had seen their businesses fold. A few were even former Ministry employees who had gone slightly too far in performing their duties.

They were the forgotten casualties of war who, through action or inaction, had found themselves on the losing side. Some had had no choice in which side to follow, some had made a mistake; but most had just tried to ensure their families would not be harmed. None could find work, nobody would employ them. Revenge was sweet, but not fattening.

Now they stood, gaunt and empty eyed, arms hanging loosely. They were "dressed" in whatever cast-offs they could beg or find or steal. Tattered balaclavas covered heads, threadbare coats covered bodies and worn-out shoes failed to keep out the cold and wet. Some even had rags wrapped around their feet.

They never looked up, never made eye contact, never spoke. Trays were carried silently to tables and the food bolted down. Two hours later they would be turned out onto the streets again to find what shelter they could, and to try and survive the night before the soup kitchen opened again tomorrow.

Some didn't make it.

-o0o-

What was Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin (1st Class), one third of "The Golden Trio", doing in such a place? It was a question she had asked herself, normally just after the first whiff of an unwashed body reached her nostrils.

Part of it was undoubtedly her middle-class liberal upbringing. She was raised in a house, like so many others in Britain, where prejudice was considered almost as disgusting as cruelty to animals. When those in need reached out for help, it was almost a sacred duty to help them. Hermione and her parents were only a few generations away from their Victorian forebears, with their "Improving tracts" and evangelism, who had cleared the slums and preached Temperance and introduced penny schools.

Hermione had suffered as much as anyone else, and more than most, during the War. Yet, she saw that it was a war based on ignorance and prejudice. In her heart beat a message, loud and strong. NEVER AGAIN.

Hermione hadn't just listed to Professor Binns; she knew her other history as well. She knew that the seeds of the Muggle Second World War had been sown with the humiliations and reparations of the First. The bitterness and hatred left in the defeated had provided the fertilizer needed by the fanatics and extremists.

She had studied Churchill's words:

_In War: Resolution. In Defeat: Defiance. In Victory: Magnanimity. In Peace: Goodwill_.

This was her contribution. NEVER AGAIN.

-o0o-

He was just another one in the queue. Just another slice of bread to be put on another tray.

And yet…there was something just different enough about him to make her look up. The clothes had been, once, of good quality. He wasn't quite as stooped as the others, his shuffle not so pronounced. His eyes still held the slightest suggestion of pride_**.**_

They were still a cold grey.

'Draco?'

His eyes met hers for just the briefest moment of time before he dropped them and moved away to a table, sitting with his back to her.

Whilst serving out the rest of the bread, she kept half an eye on him. He sat on his own, neither talking nor being spoken to. Normally, once they had finished eating, people lingered for as long as possible before they had to go back into the cold, but he stood as soon as he was finished. All the food had been served by that stage, so Hermione had nothing else left to do.

'Hannah…I'll be back in a minute, OK?' Hannah waved in acknowledgement and carried a cauldron out to the washing up area.

'Draco…Draco!' She ran up the street after him, feeling the cold already strike through her as she'd left her robe behind. He didn't stop walking.

'Draco? Where are you going?' She was now walking alongside him.

'Sod off, Granger.' There was no malice in his voice, just an endless weariness. She stopped and watched as he turned the corner. He didn't look back.

-o0o-

Ron called for her promptly at 7:45, as arranged, and she was ready to meet him. Once she'd got back from the drop-in she'd gone through her usual routine; clothes straight in the washing machine and a long hot shower.

She gave him a kiss in the hallway before taking him through to the living room so he could say hello to her parents. They normally had a glass of wine with them before heading out for the evening.

Ron was greeted warmly, as usual. Mr and Mrs Granger both liked him, and knew he would be their son-in-law one day. He'd started on his Auror training in September, at the personal invitation of the Minister for Magic, and had a bright future ahead of him.

'So, were you down the soup kitchen again today?' he asked.

'Yeah' she sighed. 'The numbers are getting larger, you know. This cold snap's really bringing them in.'

Ron shrugged. 'They should've picked the right side. Do you want to go out tonight? You look tired; you work hard all week, and then spend the day down there. Are you sure it's not too much for you?'

She smiled at him, and pulled a curl of his hair through her fingers. 'No, I want to go out. What do you suggest?'

'Have you eaten?' She shook her head. 'How about a curry? I'm starving!'

She laughed. 'You're always starving!'

'I spent six months in a tent. I don't think I've caught up yet.'

The meal was nothing out of the ordinary, but it was nice to sit with Ron in the warm and subdued light of their favourite Indian Restaurant, eating spicy food washed down with cold beer. It was a Muggle place, as were most of their haunts. Here they were just a couple; nothing special.

Afterwards they went on to a nightclub and met up with a few friends and had a dance. At one point, she did think that what they'd spend this evening was what they budgeted for a day's meals at the drop-in, but it was soon forgotten.

They left at about two in the morning to head back to "The Burrow". Hermione would sleep overnight in Ginny's old room, and then stay for dinner with the Weasleys before going home. All in all, it was their usual weekend routine, and similar to that of thousands of youngsters up and down the country.

Not all though.

As they left to find somewhere convenient to apparate, Hermione noticed dark shapes in the doorways. Bodies huddled out of the cold under sparse blankets or cardboard boxes. Ron followed her eyes.

'They'll always be around, Hermione.'

'Unless we do something for them.'

'Or they do something for themselves.'

'You don't know that, Ron. Maybe they just got unlucky. Maybe they had a bad break.'

'Maybe they couldn't be bothered to take the breaks they were given.'

She sighed, and the memory of a tired voice and tired body came back to her. 'Maybe. Who knows? Let's go.'


	2. Chapter 2

The next Saturday she watched, and waited for him to come in. He did and took his place in the queue with all the others. She saw an old man try to wave him in front, but Draco merely shook his head and waited patiently in line.

Hermione was on bread duty again. As she put a piece on his tray, she heard a mumbled 'Thanks'. She saw him walk towards the old man, then change his mind and move to an empty table where, once again, he sat alone.

This time, she watched him eat and slipped out of a side entrance before he'd finished so that she was waiting for him outside. He saw her and stopped, dropping his eyes to the pavement.

'Draco?'

'What? What do you want…Miss.'

Hermione stood in hesitant silence. What did she want? Why was it so important she spoke to him? She searched for something to say, and noticed a nearby café.

'I was just going to get a coffee. Do you want to join me?'

He looked at her, his eyes showing …nothing. 'Why?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know. I just …'

'I don't have any money, and they won't let me inside.' That was true enough; his body odour would have cleared the place.

'I'll pay. We can sit outside.' She indicated with her hand, and he nodded. Once they were sat she said 'I'm going to order some sandwiches. Will you join me?'

'You don't eat with the rest of us, then?'

'No, there's not enough food to go around as it is; we have to get our own.' He didn't respond.

A waiter came over, intending to move the tramp on until he saw who he was with. 'Miss Granger! It's an honour. Please, what can I get you?'

'Two coffees, please, and a plate of sandwiches.' She looked at Draco. 'Cheese? Ham? Beef? Tuna?' He nodded. 'Two of each, please.'

The waiter moved off and they sat in a silence that was far from companionable. 'Why?'

'I don't know. I just saw you in there…and…what happened?'

He gave what could have been a laugh, or a grunt. 'You were there; we lost.'

'You weren't on his side, you were never charged with anything.'

'Guilt by association and you can't deny we weren't associated. We lost everything.' The waiter came back at that point with their order and put it on the table, and then went away again.

Hermione indicated the food, and picked up her cup. 'Help yourself. Don't try to pretend; I know you're hungry.' Draco nodded and picked up a sandwich; what little pride he had left was no match for his empty stomach.

'But you were one of the wealthiest people in the country. How could you lose everything?'

He crammed another sandwich into his mouth, wolfing it down before replying.

'You don't know how we lived, do you?' She shook her head, so he told her.

'The Malfoys hadn't paid a bill in years – probably centuries. Whenever a debt needed settling we gave a Promisary Note instead – butcher, baker, broomstick maker; they all got one.'

'But they needed to pay bills as well, didn't they?' Hermione asked. 'They needed money.'

'They could pass them on; the note was payable to the bearer, not an individual.'

She almost laughed. 'You were printing your own money?'

He shrugged. He didn't want to talk to her; he had no interest in talking to anybody. But he knew she would nag him into submission, so it was easier to just tell her. Anyway, whilst he was talking he could eat.

He gathered his thoughts, and began speaking in a flat monotone.

'I suppose we did. We were a law unto ourselves. All the big families did it. They were backed by trust, and the name. Trouble was, my father lost the Dark Lord's trust, and had to buy his way back. He underwrote all his debts and started writing Notes to the Ministry as well, later on.

Once the war was ended, they cashed them. As soon as the Ministry did that, so did everybody else. Gringotts started paying out on Notes that went back generations – and the vault emptied. The Notes didn't stop coming though, so we had to start selling things for what ever we could get for them; it wasn't enough.

The Ministry were clever; they knew they didn't have anything on my father – thanks to your friend – but they wanted to destroy him, so they held bills back until they were certain there was nothing left. Then they came and demanded payment, backed up by a team of Aurors. Father tried to raise a loan, but by that stage nobody would touch us with a Hippogriff prod, so the Ministry took the property in lieu to sell it off.

We were given two hours to get out, with the clothes on our backs. They made it plain we'd be searched before we left, just to make sure nothing was hidden in the linings.'

Draco stopped to gulp down another sandwich, and then carried on. He still sounded as if he were reading a boring story to an empty room.

'Mother and father said they would go upstairs and get their cloaks. Once in their room they locked the door and poisoned themselves. I wasn't allowed to stay; I was told the Ministry would take care of everything. I don't even know when and where they were buried; if they are.'

Hermione had her hand over her mouth in horror. This was not how it was meant to be.

'I'm sorry. But there was nothing left over once the debts had been cleared? You're entitled to the balance.'

'I got it. After the debts and legal fees they presented me with my inheritance; 200 galleons. That was almost a year ago.'

They fell into silence once more as he continued eating. Only once did he stop and indicate the plate. She shook her head so he shrugged and carried on.

'Don't you have friends who could help you?'

This time he did laugh, rather harshly. 'I was in Slytherin, remember? My "acquaintances" are dead, hiding or imprisoned. Some, like Zabini, have got family abroad and got out. You know he took Parkinson with him? Made her an offer she wouldn't refuse.' Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'Marry me or walk the streets.' Draco shrugged once more. 'She'll do her duty and give him an heir, then she'll get access to his accounts and he'll get a mistress.'

'What about Goyle? Wasn't he a friend?'

'Goyle was the son of our footman; he would have taken the job over when his father retired. Crabbe was the stableman's son; he was the man in there earlier. They've worked for our family for generations. They were thrown out along with me. Their sort turn – turned – to my sort for help, not the other way around, and I can't help them.'

'You could work.'

'Of course. People are throwing themselves at me. They don't even need to know the name; I always did look like my father.'

'They don't recognise you in the Muggle world.' If she expected a reaction to that, she was disappointed.

'I've tried. I actually got so desperate, I tried. They all asked me for a "National Insurance Number" – I don't even know what they're talking about.'

'It's an identity number you get when you're born' Hermione informed him. 'It's how the Government collects your taxes and knows what benefits you're entitled to.' She stopped and looked at him in wonder. 'You haven't got one, have you?' He shook his head. 'What about a birth certificate? Passport? Credit card?' Each thing was followed by a further shake, and a blank look.

She leaned forward, putting her head on her hands. 'Without those, you're nothing. None of those people back there have got them either, have they?'

'Probably not.'

'So you're trapped between a world that doesn't want you, and a world that doesn't know you exist. You've no way out.'

'Except death' he said simply.

She fell silent, thinking hard. Then she looked at her watch. 'I have to go; take the rest of the sandwiches.'

She stood, threw some coins on the table and took a few steps, then turned back to him. 'Be here on Wednesday at 12:30.'

'Yes, Ma'am. Do you want me to tug my forelock?'

'No, just be here.'

She walked away, and this time it was him who called her back. 'Granger? Why?'

'I've fought in one war; I don't want another one. Wednesday.' And she was gone.

-o0o-

Hermione may have only held a junior position in the Ministry, but she had some quite influential contacts. The minister saw her as soon as he was free.

'So, to what do I owe this pleasure?'

She got straight to the point. 'I met Draco Malfoy at the weekend. The Ministry did a pretty thorough job on his family, didn't we?'

The minister held her gaze. 'Not somebody I would have expected you to socialise with, after what happened.'

'I met him in the drop-in centre; he was queuing for food.' She held Kingsley with a steady gaze, which he returned.

'The old order had to be dismantled, Hermione. Power's been concentrated in a few families for too long. If we want to build a new society, a society based on democracy and equality, they have to become part of it - not above it as they were. I assume that is what you want too?'

'Of course I do. But what about the others? What about their servants? Don't they get a look-in?'

'We didn't go after them.'

'But they're still out of work, and have nowhere to live, and nobody will touch them. You know Malfoy's stableman still defers to him, don't you?'

'Years of tradition. It will take time to change.'

'How can it, unless they have a future elsewhere?'

'Still hitting the campaign trail, Hermione? I knew you were working down there, and I admire you for it. But want do you want to achieve, and where do I come into it?'

'You come into it because I imagine you don't want another war, Kingsley, anymore than I do. What if a few of the old order get together, and start reminding their lackeys about the good times? You know there are witches and wizards dying of cold and hunger out there, don't you?

We've seen it again and again Kingsley. Get hold of the helpless and hopeless, tell them they're being suppressed, tell them things will be better under you, and they'll follow. What have they got to lose?'

Kingsley leaned back in his chair and put his fingertips to his brow. Hermione Granger was a smart girl, and it paid to listen to what she had to say. She was also more than capable of taking her arguments elsewhere; the press were already in thrall to her and Kingsley knew she'd been offered jobs on all the major Wizarding papers. It made sense to keep her where he could see her.

He smiled at her, that warm rich smile that centred on his eyes, and he saw the colour rise in her cheeks. 'So, Hermione, what are you suggesting?'

Fifteen minutes later, he sat back even more impressed with her. She may not be the most worldly-wise twenty year old witch but, by Merlin, she was good!

She wanted the drop-in centre to be more than a soup kitchen; showers, a barber and second hand clothes so that people could go to interviews not looking like they'd been sleeping on the streets. Medical care and help with housing and job vacancies. Muggle identities for those who wanted to try their luck outside and education classes so they wouldn't stand out.

Kingsley took the time to organise his thoughts. 'Funding's always the big problem, but there is an emergency war chest.'

'Use it for this and you may not need to fund a war.'

He smiled at that one. 'OK, supposing we ran with it, there's still one big problem. Apart from Harry, nobody's more associated with Voldemort's defeat than you. Would they trust you?'

'Perhaps not, but I know someone they would, and I'm buying him lunch tomorrow – unless you're going to let me put it on expenses.'


	3. Chapter 3

He waited, on Wednesday. He stood where he couldn't be seen, but could see the cafe. There was no way he would arrive before her; they probably wouldn't let him sit down anyway.

A thought occurred to him. Perhaps this was her idea of revenge; to make him stand there and miss his chance of a meal at the soup kitchen and have to go hungry all day. Maybe she was even watching him, and laughing. He felt the bile rise at the thought. He should go now, and damn her to hell.

At 12:29 she arrived and sat at an outside table. He went to join her, sitting with his back to the street to avoid the stares. The same waiter who had served them last time immediately rushed over.

'Miss Granger! It is a pleasure to see you again.' He handed her a menu, dropping the other one on the table.

Draco thought this is what it must be like wearing an invisibility cloak. Two years ago he would have had the man killed – no, he wouldn't have done. His father probably would. His aunt would have done it herself.

Hermione perused the menu whist the waiter hovered next to her. 'Have you decided what you're having?' she asked Draco, looking at the untouched menu.

'Maybe I'm not hungry.'

'Don't be stupid. Order.'

He picked up the menu and glanced at it. 'Steak and Kidney pudding.'

She turned to the waiter. 'I'll have the Chicken Caesar salad…and two coffees please.'

They sat in silence until the food was served. 'Eat' she said.

Draco's self control lasted until his nostrils caught a whiff of gravy, then there was no stopping him and the food was swallowed with barely a chew. Once the first pangs of hunger had been assuaged he looked back up from his plate.

'Are you going to tell me why I'm here, Granger?'

'I've got some funding for the drop-in centre.'

'So? Does that mean we get two slices of bread from now on?'

She told him her plans, pretty much as she'd laid them out to Kingsley just the other day.

'Where's the money coming from?' he asked.

'My benefactor would prefer to remain anonymous, for the time being.'

'Meaning if it were known nobody would go there again; they'd rather starve.'

Hermione raised her eyebrows and gave him a sceptical look. 'I hardly think they'd die for the moral high ground, do you? But you have got a point, surprisingly. Trust might be a problem; that's where you come in.'

'?'

'They'll trust you; you're one of their own.'

'?'

Oh for Merlin's sake, Malfoy! I'm offering you a job.'

'A job?'

'Yes. And whilst your brain is struggling with such an outlandish concept as actually working for a living, do you want to order dessert?'

'I'd be working for you?'

'Have you got a better offer on the table?'

'Why?'

'I told you; they won't trust me.'

'But why ME? All of this; the food, the job. Why did you even want to talk to me?'

'I don't know.' She ran her hand through her hair. 'I…When I saw you the other day…it just seemed wrong.'

'I picked the wrong side; winners write the histories.'

'No, not just that. You were wrong. I may have hated you at school, but you had…something, a spark. To see you so crushed…it just seemed…wrong.'

'You felt _sorry_ for me?' He put his head in his hands. 'Ye gods, how low have I sunk?'

'At school you were a stuck-up, obnoxious, hateful little creep. But I saw behind that, in the sixth year. I saw how frightened you were, and how lonely. Yes, maybe I do feel sorry for you; for what you were forced to become. Your childhood wasn't that much different from Harry's, really. So, what do you say?'

'But I'd be working for you?'

'You could say we're working together – if it makes you feel better.'

'When would you want me to start?'

She glanced at her watch. 'If you hurry up and order, shall we say 1:30?'

He looked around, at the buildings and the people hurrying past. Hermione could see the struggle going on in his head. It was the final act of betrayal to everything he'd been brought up to believe in. It was money to buy food.

'I'll have treacle tart and custard.'

-o0o-

She spent the afternoon taking him around the centre, describing her plans for each room.

'I thought we could use these two for shower rooms. There's some piping and things arriving in the morning. Do you think you'll be able to put them together?'

'I suppose so, I'll try anyway.'

'Good. When people come in they'll be given new, well different, clothes – we got sacks of them arriving tomorrow as well. The old ones can go straight to the laundry which will be…er…behind here. We can put a hatch in.'

'You'll be here all the time? What about your job?'

'I've got a secondment for a couple of months.'

'So it is being funded by the Ministry?'

She chose to ignore him, and moved on. 'Then the barber can go in this room here. Once we've got them smartened up they'll stand better chances at job interviews.'

-o0o-

'GRANGER? TURN THE WATER ON!'

She stormed into the room. 'Will you STOP calling me GRANGER!'

He looked at her, and then dropped his eyes. 'Would you mind turning the water on, please, Miss Granger.'

Hermione almost winced at how cowed he'd become. It would be so easy to bully him unintentionally, or otherwise. 'I'll go and do it now, Mr. Malfoy.'

He heard gurgling as water started running through the pipes leading to the showers he had been installing. Suddenly, a jet of it spurted out from where it shouldn't, soaking him.

'GRANGER! OFF!'

'I HEARD THAT, MALFOY! UP YOURS TOO.'

'NO! Turn the water OFF! Please.'

'Sorry!' Hermione apologised, slightly abashed.

Slowly the cascade slowed to a trickle and he left the shower room. 'I think that's the final leak. I'll get on to it in the morning.'

'We could have a go at fixing it tonight, if you wanted; it's only 4:30.'

'I have to get going or all the half decent places will be taken.'

She looked at him quizzically. 'I need to find somewhere to sleep tonight' he told her. 'As it starts to get dark all the good places go.' He headed for the door.

'But you're wet!' He shrugged. 'Come here, at least let me dry you off.' She took out her wand and started doing drying spells on his clothes. Suddenly she stopped. 'Where's your wand?'

'Ask Potter, he took it.'

'Of course, I'd forgotten. I don't know what he did with it, after the battle. Couldn't you get another one?'

'I told you, I was thrown out of the house with only the clothes I stood up in. I've not got the money to buy a new one – even if Ollivander would sell it to me. See you tomorrow.' He turned back to the door.

'Wait! I've just realised what you said. Are you still sleeping rough?' He nodded. 'But I advanced you some wages, why can't you get a bed for the night?'

Another resigned shrug, she was becoming familiar with it now. 'It isn't the money; it's my face. People see it and slam the door shut.'

A couple of years ago that would have been impossible. Hermione looked at his gaunt figure; he expected to be treated this way, now.

'It's going to be really cold tonight.' She hesitated, what would Ron say? Or shout, more likely. 'We've got a spare room; you can come back with me.'

'A muggle house?'

She bristled instinctively. 'Yes, a muggle house. Is that worse than a doorway?'

'They won't want me there. Anyway, I stink.'

'We have got a bathroom. I don't live in a cave, you know. I'll wash your clothes whilst you're there; you can borrow some of my dad's things until they dry. I'll take you side along.'

-o0o-

So these are muggle houses, he thought to himself, as they approached one that looked exactly the same as all the others. Neat little boxes with neat little gardens in front and neat little cars parked on the drive. Hermione took a key from her bag, and he looked at her quizzically.

'They don't like me using magic to open the door. It sort of spooks them, a bit.' She opened the door and let him in. 'The bathroom's straight up the stairs. Help yourself to soap and shampoo. Leave your things outside the door.'

'Gran…Herm…Thanks.' He headed up the stairs whilst she went into the living room.

'Hi mum, dad. Umm…I've brought someone home with me. He's having a shower and I need to wash his clothes and borrow some of your things, dad.' Two bewildered faces looked back at her. 'It's a long story, I'll explain later. He's…aah, going to be staying for a couple of days. I hope you don't mind.'

She went up stairs with some bin bags to put his clothes in; she certainly wasn't going to touch them with her bare hands. She could hear the shower running and shouted through the door. 'I've left you some clean clothes out here. Just come down when you're ready.'

Fortunately she'd got the clothes into the washing machine, and the door shut, before her mother came to find her. 'What's that smell?'

Hermione sprayed some air freshener around. 'He spilt some sour milk over himself at the drop-in centre.'

'So, who is "he"?'

'Just somebody I was at school with.'

Twenty minutes later, Draco came down stairs wearing clothes that felt very strange to him. They were only chinos and a polo shirt, but he felt as if they were some strange tribal outfit. He certainly felt better for his shower; he hadn't realised how filthy he was, and how his skin had always itched.

His hair felt a lot better too, for being washed. It had grown long over the past year or so, and was almost half way down his back. He'd found a sort of stretchy band thing in the bathroom, and used it to pull his hair into a pony tail. As he stood in front of the door, he wondered what these people were going to say, and how they would treat him. They must know who he was, by now. He knocked.

'You can come in, you know' Hermione had called out. When he entered she stood up. 'Mum? Dad? This is Draco. Draco, John and Jean, my parents'

'Very nice to meet you, Draco. Any friend of Hermione's is welcome here' said her mother. 'Dinner will be about an hour. Would you like a cup of tea?'

They sat there, not really saying much because Hermione and her parents were watching a box in the corner that had moving pictures with people talking. Draco thought it must be a television; he'd seen them in shop windows. Eventually the people stopped talking, and some music played. Hermione's father picked up a squat black wand and pressed a button on it. The television became dark and silent.

'Sorry' said her dad to Draco, 'but we do like to catch up on the news. So, you're a friend of Hermione's are you? Were you at school together?'

'Yes' said Hermione, quickly.

'Not in Gryffindor, though? I don't remember Hermione mentioning you.'

'He was in…a different house, dad.'

John Granger nodded. 'You were at the battle, though? Yes? I hope you took a couple of the …others down.' He clenched his fists a couple of times. 'I like to think of myself a liberal, Draco, but when I think of what that animal did…and his bloody "Death Eaters"…well, I'm sorry, but a rope's too good for them. She had to send us to Australia to stop them murdering us. They tortured her, you know. Bastards.'

'Dad, it's over now,'

'Yes, we should move on I suppose; forgive and forget eh? God knows how. You know Hermione gives up her free time to look after some of them do you, Draco?' Pride shone in his eyes as he looked at his daughter. 'She's a wonderful girl.'

'Draco's helping out there, too.' Hermione said quietly. Parents could be really embarrassing at times

'Good, that's good. Show them the error of their ways; teach them there are better alternatives than hatred and war.'


	4. Chapter 4

Draco apparated back to Diagon Alley with Hermione the next morning, wearing his proper wizard clothing and feeling far more comfortable for it. He was still somewhat disturbed, though.

He'd had a _pleasant_ evening with the Grangers. He had a **_pleasant_** evening with three muggles.

Mrs Granger had served up a pork and apple casserole (it was meant to have been pork chops, but she'd only taken six out of the freezer that morning – she'd have to have a word with Hermione about springing surprise dinner guests on her) with cauliflower cheese, carrots and mashed potatoes. Mr Granger had opened a bottle of wine and after dinner they sat around whilst Granger told her parents all about what was happening at the centre, and her parents told her what had happened in their dental surgery.

By 10 o'clock, Draco had felt his head nodding, and Granger suggested he went to bed and showed him to his room. She'd even said 'Good night, sleep well.'

He did, too. It was the first time he'd slept in a bed since his money had run out. He had been warm and comfortable for the first time in weeks.

They were _nice_ people. Draco's whole life had been based on hating them, on considering them to be almost sub-human. But he'd…_liked_ them?

This morning, Granger had woken him up by knocking gently on his door and telling him it was time for breakfast. He'd dressed and gone downstairs and there were cereals and toast and orange juice on the table and he was told to help himself.

They'd _liked_ him too, it seemed.

-o0o-

'Knut for your thoughts?' Hermione asked him, as they walked towards the centre.

'Just planning the day' he lied, quickly. 'I'll get the showers working, first of all.' He felt the hair hanging down his back, still in its pony tail. 'Would it be alright if I used the barber, do you think?'

'I suppose so.' She looked at him. 'You might want to think about keeping it that way, though; it looks quite good on you.'

His face lit 'Do you really thi….' then Hermione saw it fall. 'Yeah, right.'

She put a hand on his arm, and said gently 'No, I honestly think it does suit you.' She realised Draco was like a dog who had been beaten; he desperately wanted to trust, but was scared to do so. She'd have to go carefully with him. 'It gives you a much softer look. How comes you don't have a beard, though?'

'I've got a razor, though the blade's pretty blunt now. I should get a new one.'

'Yes, you should. The hair's good, but I don't think a beard would work.' She realised her hand was still on his arm and withdrew it, colouring slightly. 'Let's get to work.'

They walked into the centre and Hermione was alarmed when Draco suddenly starting retching, and having to hold himself up. He made a bolt for the door and she followed him outside. He had his hands on his knees, drawing in a deep lungful of air.

'Draco? What's the matter?'

'The stench! I'd never noticed it before.'

'It does get to you a bit, doesn't it? You get used to it, after a while. Trouble is we can't really open the windows much or it gets freezing cold.'

'Did I smell like that?'

'I'm afraid you did. Just take it slowly.' It took him a while but he managed, in the end.

-o0o-

By 5 o'clock that Friday most things were ready for "Operation Integration", as Hermione had named it, to begin on the Monday. She had wanted to start at the weekend, but organising the volunteers had been the big problem. What they could do, though, was announce it on both Saturday and Sunday. They would both come in for it.

She locked the doors and looked at Draco. 'Hell of a week. Fancy a drink?'

'I wouldn't mind. I'm buying though.'

'If you insist.'

'Yes, I already owe you two lunches.'

'One. The Ministry paid for the second one.' She smiled at the look on his face. 'I'm not sure I actually told Kingsley it was you.'

The walked into the warm fug that passed for air in 'The Leaky Cauldron' and made their way to the bar. Hannah Abbot bustled over with a smile on her face.

'Hermione! We don't often see you in here.'

'Tough week, I think we've earned a butterbeer!'

Hannah smiled and turned to Hermione's companion. The smile on her face froze slightly. 'Draco.' It wasn't a greeting, or a warning. However, it did say "I'd tell you to leave if I could come up with a legitimate reason".

Hermione noticed, of course. She put on a very bright voice. 'Yes! Draco's helping out at the centre, now. He's done really well this week, put in a lot of hard work. Are you in tomorrow? I'll tell you about our plans then.'

'"Our" plans?' Hannah said, stiffly. She put a rather false smile on her face. 'Anyway, two butterbeers. How's Ron, your boyfriend?'

'Fine' said Hermione, a little perplexed, 'I'm seeing him later, actually.'

They took their butterbeers and headed for a table in the corner. Draco slumped in his seat a little.

'Tired?' Hermione asked him.

'Only of life' he replied, in a dull tone. Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him. 'You saw her. As soon as I walked in, you saw the way she treated me' he elaborated_._

'Hannah? She doesn't have a problem! She works at the centre; you must have seen her there.'

'Oh yeah, she fine in there; as long as we "know our place", queuing for food and grateful for it. Be careful, Granger.'

'What do you mean?'

'There's a difference between keeping us alive so we can suffer, and being a "Death Lover". You heard her back there; "Our plans?" "How's your boyfriend?" Getting too close to it all could cause you problems.'

'Oh, you're being paranoid.'

'I'm not, trust me. I've had more experience of plots and intrigues than you. You're too innocent; you think the best of everyone. Anyway, if you're seeing Weasley tonight I'd better head off and find somewhere.'

'What do you mean?'

'To sleep.'

'Why aren't you staying at our place?' She thought for a moment, and realised the problem. 'I don't have to be there babysitting you! I've offered you a room until you get yourself sorted out.'

'What if your parents start asking questions? They don't know about me, do they; who I really am?'

'No. I'll tell them not to ask anything, it's probably best for the time being.'

'What about Weasley? Does he know I'm there?'

'I've not mentioned it to him, no. It's not his house.' She sounded defensive.

'See what I mean? Be careful, Granger.'

She studied her fingers for a while. 'Are you ever going to stop calling me by my surname?'

'What do you want me to call you?'

'My name's Hermione.'

He thought for a moment. 'It's a bit of a mouthful, though. How about "Hermy"?'

She fixed him with a glare. 'Only if you want me to start calling you "Ferret", Malfoy.'

'I'll stick to Granger, then.'

He looked at her and they both smiled, and then laughed. They stopped, suddenly, as if somebody had thrown a bucket of cold water over them and looked away from each other.

"We'd better go home…back to my house' said Hermione, who felt suddenly uncomfortable. 'Drink up'.

-o0o-

Hermione had a quiet word with her parents, whilst Draco was having a shower, warning them not to question him about the war. She dropped subtle hints that he'd had a rough time and there was a reason why he wasn't living with his parents, which he still found difficult to talk about. Mr and Mrs Granger automatically assumed they'd been killed and he'd suffered enough at Voldemort's hands – which wasn't too far from the truth.

Anyway, once Hermione had headed out for the evening Draco made the excuse that he was tired and headed up to his room.

John Granger looked at his wife. 'Shame, he seems such a nice lad. War's a terrible thing. We should make sure he always feels welcome here; give him some kind of a base.'

-o0o-

Ron and Hermione went into 'The Leaky Cauldron' before meeting up with Harry and Ginny for dinner. Hannah watched them approach the bar.

'Back again so soon?' she said waspishly to Hermione, with a rather false smile on her face. 'Two butterbeers as usual, Hermione?'

'What was all that about?' said Ron, once they'd sat down.

'I popped in after work' said Hermione, a little on edge. 'Friday and I fancied a quick drink. That's all.'

'At the centre?' Ron asked. 'What's going on there Hermione?' She stiffened instinctively. 'You've not been in the Ministry and somebody said you're there full time now.'

Once more, she explained her plans. Ron listened without interruption, but didn't look happy.

'So, how long's this going on for?' he asked, when she'd finished.

Hermione shrugged. 'Six months, I don't know. Depends. Why, what difference does it make?'

'Because it's putting your career on hold for six months, that's why. Whilst you're doing the "angel of mercy" bit, other people are getting their feet under the table at the Ministry. When it comes to promotions and reviews, they'll be around and you'll still be serving soup to …that lot.'

'This is important, Ron. I think it's important, anyway. If they're marginalised and…disenfranchised…it could lead to discontentment in the future.'

'I haven't got a clue what you just said there. All I know is, if the boot was on the other foot those bastards wouldn't be doling out soup to us.'

Hermione put her head in her hands; she suddenly felt very tired. 'We didn't fight to be like them, though, did we? I didn't, anyway. I fought for a better world, where I wouldn't be judged on who my parents were.'

'Fine, I don't have a problem with that. So let them get jobs then, rather than living off the fat of the land.'

'Oh, Ron! They're not, trust me; nobody will give them a job, or a room to sleep in – even if they had any money. If only you could see them; it's pathetic.' She looked at him. 'Why don't you? Come in with me tomorrow and see for yourself what it's really like.'

Ron scratched his nose. 'I…could do, I suppose.' He put his arm around her, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. 'You know me, Hermione; I'm a simple sort of bloke. There's right and wrong and if you're wrong you get punished.' He laughed. 'Or even if it wasn't you, but you're the only one mum can reach with the back of her hand! It all evened out over the years.'

Hermione laughed, and gave him a hug. 'You do support me, don't you Ron?'

He hugged her back. 'I've been around you long enough to know what you're like once you get the bit between your teeth. It's just like spew, I suppose. I'm proud of you, Hermione, and I'm glad you care, but…this time there's more at stake than getting an E rather than an O on your homework. Don't lose sight of the longer term, will you?'

She knew he had a point, and she would have to think of what was best for her, eventually. Still, she thought, as she felt Ron's strong arms around her, whilst she had him everything would be alright.


	5. Chapter 5

Ron arrived at about 11:30 the next morning. Hermione gave him a kiss and an extra hug, mainly because she noticed Hannah looking over at them, and introduced him to the other volunteers. Most knew him, of course, if only by reputation. Several of the "ladies of a certain age" were only too pleased to see him and even became a little giggly in his presence.

Draco wasn't in the kitchen, and Hermione didn't get as far as telling Ron he was working in the centre. She'd cross that bridge when she came to it, and hoped Hannah wouldn't open her mouth.

Draco was working on the laundry area, on a scheme he and Hermione had come up with, that seemed quite efficient. When people came in, they would be given a change of clothes. Then they would go to the shower area, undress and put their old clothes through the hatch. These would go down a chute straight into a tub, so nobody had to touch them. The "clients" could then have a shower, dry off and put on their new clothes. If they wanted, they could then go and see the barber.

There were two shower rooms, of course; men's and women's. They couldn't yet afford a hairdresser though, so it would just have to be trims all round.

Thinking of his own experience, Draco had foreseen a problem. 'What do we do once they've finished?'

'I'm not with you.'

'Remember what I did when the smell hit my nose? They'll be the same; we can't have people throwing up all over the place.'

She hadn't thought of that; it might well take a few days for everyone to get done. Her first idea, quickly abandoned, was to have "washed" and "unwashed" sections, but the humiliation…

No, they'd just have to cope with it. Draco suggested that people eat first, then wash, and be encouraged to leave straight afterwards. He did think honesty was the best policy, and everyone should be told the reason why. It was the best they could come up with, so decided to give it a go.

-o0o-

By the time the doors opened, everything was in place. Hermione would do bread again. Hannah was on her left and it was Ron's job was to make sure she didn't run out of soup. This was cooked in large cauldrons that served perhaps twenty people. As the volunteers were mostly women, getting them from the kitchen to the serving area was always a struggle.

'Of course, it will be easy for you' simpered one of the ladies. 'Yes, look at all those muscles he's got' said another. This was the sort of thing that went straight to Ron's head and Hermione probably wouldn't hear the end of it all evening.

At precisely 12 o'clock the doors were opened and people began moving towards the first food they'd seen, more than likely, since this time yesterday. Hermione looked as they approached and her heart sank. They were going downhill, she could see that. The meal they were getting was designed to provide about 1,000 calories, but in this weather, with the cold snap continuing, it just wasn't enough. Slowly but surely, they were starving. Her work and plans became even more important to her; they had become a matter of life and death.

The queue edged its way forward, hands white with cold holding trays, eyes looking downward, occasionally a murmured word of thanks.

The system worked smoothly, with Ron standing just inside the kitchen door waiting for a nod from Hannah. He'd then bring out a new cauldron and take away the old one, giving a roguish smile to the ladies, who'd blush.

Then it all went horribly, horribly wrong.

Ron brought out a new cauldron and had just placed it on the counter when he happened to look at the man waiting to be served.

'It's YOU! You BASTARD!'

Then man looked up and his eyes widened in fear. He tried to move away but was hemmed in by the others waiting behind him. He looked like a rat caught in a trap.

'You want soup do you? Then have some you BASTARD!'

Ron threw the contents of his cauldron over the man, both soaking and scalding him at the same time. Then, still shouting 'BASTARD!' he put his hands on the counter, obviously meaning to spring over the top and carry on his attack.

There was a call of 'Stupify!' and a crack and Ron collapsed to the ground. Hermione stood, white and shaking, with her wand in her hand. One of the ladies screamed**,** which drew the attention the Magical Law Enforcement Officers at the door, who came over to investigate.

Hermione grabbed Ron under the armpits and started dragging him into the kitchen, out of sight. 'Hannah…get it sorted out! I'll deal with idiot here.'

She propped him against the wall, pointed her wand again and said 'Enervate!'

-o0o-

Ron came round feeling as if his whole body had been trampled by a herd of hippogriffs. He opened his eyes to see Hermione standing before him, her arms crossed, wand in hand and a look on her face he recognised only too well. He'd seen it many, many times from his mother and knew he was in deep trouble. Her first words merely served to confirm it.

'What in hell's name do you think you were you doing, Ronald Weasley?'

It wasn't actually the words, but the tone; she'd spoken in an icy, deathly hush. Ron averted his eyes and looked at the floor.

'You know who that was, don't you?'

'Yes, Ron, of course I do. He's one of the snatchers who captured us; he's been coming here since they let him out of Azkaban. He got six months.'

'Six months? SIX BLOODY MONTHS? For what he did? IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN LIFE!'

'We're not here to judge, Ron.' Hermione was struggling to remain calm and it showed on her face. 'He was sentenced by the Wizengemot and he's served his punishment. It's over.'

'How can you say that, Hermione? How can you stand there and say that and serve him – YOU serve HIM – after what they did to you?'

'Because that's what we DO here. It's behind us now; it's time to move on. I'll never forget, or forgive, but we MUST put it behind us.'

'WELL I WON'T. NOT NOW, NOT EVER. I WANT YOU OUT OF HERE HERMIONE. LET THE BASTARDS STARVE!'

She looked at him coldly, then closed her eyes and shook her head.

'Go home, Ron. Please, just go home – I've got things to do. That soup would have fed twenty people and we've got to try and cover for it, somehow.'

'You're coming with me, and on Monday you're going back to the Ministry, to your proper job.'

She turned her back on him. 'Go away, Ron.'

A heavy, brooding silence hung over them. She was very aware of Ron standing just behind her. His voice was suddenly calm, conciliatory. 'Hermione – look, let's talk it over tonight, shall we? I'll take you to dinner.' He put a tentative hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off and forced her eyes shut to stop the tears. 'No. I stupefied you; you'll need to rest. Just go, please.'

She heard the outside door slam shut and leant against the wall, trying to calm herself.

-o0o-

The words were spoken so quietly she wasn't sure if they had been spoken at all. 'Granger? Are you alright?'

She took a couple of deep breaths and turned. Draco was stood before her and it took her a while to recognise the expression on his face. It was one she'd never seen before – concern. She tried to speak, but couldn't form the words, so just shook her head.

Then she held out her arms to him; she just needed somebody – anybody – to give her a hug.

-o0o-

Draco had been finishing off the piping to the washing tubs when he'd heard the commotion from the dining area and gone to investigate. He'd seen the puddle of soup on the floor, and the man standing there soaking wet, and assumed there had been some kind of accident, until one of the volunteers told him the truth. He grimaced when he heard the name "Ron Weasley". Draco hadn't known he was going to be here.

Hannah said he was in the kitchen with Hermione, and it was probably best if they were left on their own for a while. Draco had forced himself not to laugh when Hannah told him about Hermione having to stun Ron; it was something he'd wanted to do for years and now he'd missed his chance. Pity about the wand, but maybe a soup ladle would have served just as well.

He went into the kitchen when he heard the slamming door. His main concern was to make sure The Weasel hadn't done anything stupid, although that would have been par for the course obviously. Seeing Granger in such a state had knocked him back though, and then she turned to him and held out her arms.

The Malfoy family had not been great believers in comforting each other. Draco could never remember his mother doing it, let alone his father – not until after the battle. During his childhood, Draco had been led to believe that only weaklings needed comfort.

When he was five he'd fallen from his broom and broken an arm. His parents had come over to pick him up and get him to the Healer, of course, but they didn't comfort him. Draco remembered crying with pain and his father saying 'If you want to act like a mudblood, go and live with them'. Malfoys didn't cry or show weakness, not in front of others anyway.

He wasn't quite sure what to do, so he copied her and held out his arms. She put her arms around him, and gave him a sort of gentle squeeze. Then she leaned her head against his chest and started crying.

Draco was now completely out of his depth. He wondered if giving her a squeeze back would help, so he did and it seemed to. Well, it didn't make her sound any worse and she didn't try to pull away.

It was perhaps unfortunate that Hannah chose that moment to come barging in.

'Hermione, I've just…Oh sorry! I didn't mean to _disturb _you, but we've got people to feed out there.'

Hermione pulled away from Draco and wiped her eyes. 'Yes, of course. I'll get on with it.' She looked at Hannah, her eyes pleading for understanding. 'I just needed a bit of a hug from somebody.'

Hannah didn't look understanding at all; she glanced at Draco, then back again. 'Well, wasn't it _lucky_ there just happened to be _somebody_ around?'

With that she spun on her heel and walked back out of the door.

-o0o-

Hermione kept her distance from Draco for the rest of the day. Mechanically, she served out the rest of the bread, and then went to sort some more bundles of clothes out ready for Monday.

Draco, too, kept himself to himself. He'd realised what Hannah had meant by her comments and knew he had to tread very carefully. Obviously he had no feelings for Granger, beyond a level of gratitude, but rumours could spread and were capable of hurting her. He, for her sake, must keep the relationship on a strictly professional level.

As soon as he got the chance he would have to find somewhere to live so he could move out of her house. Distance was the best cure for this kind of idiotic talk and, once it was clear nothing was happening, it would soon die down.

With all the disturbance, though, they'd lost their chance to make any kind of announcement today. It would have to wait until tomorrow.

It was about 4:30 and he was thinking about stopping for the day when he became aware of Hermione leaning against the door frame, looking at him. Her eyes were still a little red and puffy, and she seemed utterly exhausted.

She gave him a sad little smile. 'Hi.'

'Hello. How are you feeling?'

It was her turn to shrug at him. 'Shall we pack up and go home?'

'Yes, I can finish up tomorrow. You look like you could do with a break.'

She regarded him steadily. 'Draco, thank you for being there today.'

He stood and stretched. 'No problem.' He hesitated, wiping his hands on a bit of rag. 'I don't think you should make a habit of it though, Granger; it isn't good for you. I told you to be careful.'


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione had rarely been so pleased to get home as she was that evening. Unfortunately, her mother's greeting didn't make her feel any better.

'Hermione? What's wrong? You look terrible!'

'Gee, thanks mum. I love you too.'

Jean Granger bustled over and put her hand on her daughter's forehead. 'Hmm, you don't feel hot.'

'It's been a rough day. I'm just tired, that's all.'

'Over-tired, more like. Why don't you go and have a nice bath, then slip under the duvet for an hour. A little nap won't do you any harm.'

'I'm not three, mother' said Hermione, pouting…like a three year old.

'Go on, off you go.'

Hermione headed up the stairs. She didn't have the strength to argue, so it was easier to comply.

'Oh, by the way' her mother called after her, 'you'll have to sort out your own dinner; we're going to see the Greens this evening.'

Hermione waved in acknowledgement as Jean turned to Draco. 'Would you like a cup of tea?' He nodded and followed her into the kitchen.

Of course mothers are always right, and Hermione did feel a lot better when she came downstairs later. Draco was in the living room, reading a Muggle newspaper. He was struggling through an article entitled "What ever happened to Y2K?" which made no sense to him whatsoever. He smiled at her as she walked in, grateful for the distraction.

'Feeling better?'

She gave a wry smile in return. 'Yeah, I daren't tell her though! So…what are we doing about dinner tonight?'

Draco shrugged; for the last few months he'd eaten whatever he could get hold of and in "the old days" his mother had always decided the menu with one of the House Elves.

'Do you fancy a curry?' she asked. 'There's a place not far from here which isn't too bad.'

'Yes, alright. I'm paying, though.'

'Have you got any muggle money?' Draco cursed silently; no, he hadn't. 'Gringott's will change it for you, you know.'

'No they won't' he said quietly. 'They won't let me through the doors. We embarrassed them when people presented notes they couldn't honour' he said in response to her confused look. 'Goblins have long memories; they'll probably still remember it in a couple of hundred year's time.'

'I'll pay; you can refund me later if you insist. You might want to change as well; a robe will probably get you some funny looks.'

-o0o-

The meal turned out well enough. It wasn't the place she normally went with Ron, but the food was good and a couple of drinks helped restore her humour. She'd had to help Draco with the menu and did all the ordering.

They'd talked, as well, mainly about plans for tomorrow. It was decided that he should make the announcement about the new opening times and facilities; he knew these people and could speak their language.

When their meal was finished Draco watched, fascinated, as Hermione paid the bill with a little card thing. 'What's that?' he asked, once the waiter had gone.

Hermione showed him, 'It's a debit card. It's not too different to your Promisary Notes, I suppose, except it will be cashed once the banks open on Monday. You've never seen one before, have you?'

Draco shook his head and Hermione dived into her handbag, bringing out a notebook and pencil. 'I'll add something on banking to my "Muggle survival course".'

One of her plans for the centre was to run classes on the Muggle world, looking at things like money, clothes and popular culture; it would help people fit in better. She'd have to cover electricity and transport, too; most wizards were hopeless with them.

When they left the restaurant Hermione decided she didn't want to go home just yet, so invited Draco to a Muggle pub for a drink. He didn't mind, and the more he knew about this world the better. He was convinced he would always have problems getting work in Wizarding society, so perhaps this would be his only option.

The pub was quite close by; just a regular place, but not too plastic or filled with loud music. It was popular with people who wanted a quiet drink. They went in and Hermione suggested Draco get a table whilst she went to the bar. As she made her way back to the table with the drinks she heard somebody calling her name, and turned to see a young woman.

'Hermione! It is you, isn't it?'

'Susan? Susan Green! Well I never! How are you?'

'Fine! You? I haven't seen you for ages!' She turned to the man at her side. 'Mike, this is Hermione Granger. We were at primary school together, and then she went off to some boarding school up in Scotland. Hermione, this is Mike, my boyfriend.'

'Nice to meet you' said Hermione. 'I'm in here with a friend. Do you want to join us?'

They nodded, so she led them to the table and started making introductions.

'Susan, Mike…this is D…David, a friend of mine from school.'

They all sat down and the girls immediately started catching up on the last 10 years or so. Susan mentioned they were out because her parents had guests, and Hermione said she knew; it was her parents!

Mike and "David" had more problems getting a conversation going. Mike used his usual opening.

'Some funny old results today, weren't there?' Draco looked at him blankly. 'I mean, fancy United getting turned over by City! That'll dent their chances a bit.' Draco knew he was being addressed in English, but that was about it. Fortunately, Hermione overheard and came to his rescue.

'David isn't really into football. He plays chess, though.' That killed the conversation stone dead, which was her intention.

The moment passed and they returned to safer topics, like work. Susan was working as a secretary at a nearby firm, and Mike was a groundsman for the local authority. Hermione said that she and David were working at a "Back to Work" club in London, trying to assist the long-term unemployed find jobs.

A little later, Draco was suddenly aware that Hermione was tapping her foot against his. Once she had his attention she pressed a piece of paper into his hand, and made subtle nodding motions towards the now emptying glasses. Draco took the hint.

'Would you like a drink?' he asked. He took the orders and headed for the bar a little uncertainly. The girls both wanted "Spritzers", whilst Mike said he'd have a "Lager top". Draco didn't know what he would have; doubting butterbeer or firewhiskey would be available. He'd have the same as Mike – whatever that was.

He looked at the piece of coloured paper he'd been given. There were some pictures on it, and it said "Twenty Pounds" in both numbers and figures. He thought that was about Four Galleons. There was a slight problem at the bar, though. The barmaid took his order, and then just looked at him.

'Umm…Please. Thank you' said Draco, remembering Muggles seemed to like hearing those words, even ones who were about to take money off you; they were very odd like that. In the old days, "mine host" would have been bowing and scraping to him, not the other way round. However, once he'd said these "magic words" the barmaid smiled and went to get his drinks, saying 'Of course, love.'

He assumed he'd got what he'd asked for – she came back with four glasses full of liquid anyway – and she gave him some change from the note. He said "Thank you" a couple of times, just to be safe, and went back to the table.

Susan and Hermione both said "Thank you" to him, but Mike said "Cheers, mate".

Susan had started on school days. 'I suppose you passed loads of exams, didn't you?' Hermione made so-so motions with her head. Susan turned to Draco. 'She always was the cleverest in the school, always reading. Proper little book-worm, she was.'

She suddenly laughed as the memory came back to her. 'In fact, we used to call you "Hermy Wormy", didn't we?'

Draco snorted into his drink, and Hermione fixed him with a stare. 'Don't even think it…Ferret.'

Susan giggled. 'Why's he called "Ferret"?'

Hermione jumped, she'd have to be careful what she said. 'Oh…ha ha …you know. It's a long story, and…you wouldn't believe me even if I told you.'

How do explain to a Muggle that David was actually a wizard called Draco, who was once transfigured into a ferret by a one-legged ex-auror who had a magical eye, but in the event turned out to be an imposter who was using polyjuice potion?

-o0o-

The evening passed pleasantly enough, with Hermione and her friend gossiping away. Draco and Mike exchanged a few pleasantries, and Mike got another round of drinks in. After they had been drunk, Hermione said they'd have to go, as they were both working tomorrow.

She and Susan agreed they'd have to keep in touch, and it had been a great time. That was true; Hermione had thoroughly enjoyed meeting up with an old friend and being away from the magical world for an evening. She hadn't even missed Ron.

Susan watched them leave. 'That was nice; I always liked Hermione. He seemed nice, too.'

'Hmm' said Mike. 'Something odd about him though. Did you notice he didn't speak much? Not like he was shy, more like he didn't know what we were talking about. And another thing – that round of drinks he bought? Did you see she slipped him the money to get them; like he didn't have any?'

'Ooh, that is odd' agreed Susan. 'He's well spoken, though, just like he's rich.' They considered the matter for a moment.

'I bet I know what it is!' said Mike. 'They went to boarding school, didn't they? I reckon he's one of those Upper Class Twits, probably got involved in drugs, or something. Yeah, that'd explain why he's so thin and pale. He's probably just got out of rehab and she's taken him under her wing.'

'Well, good for her' said Susan decisively. 'And him, if he's got himself sorted out. We all make mistakes and deserve a second chance. I just hope he appreciates her. D'you think they're, like, together?'

'Bound to be' said Mike, and then returned to his specialist subject: football results. Susan fixed a smile to her face, and prepared to be bored senseless for the next half hour.

-o0o-

Hermione and Draco walked back to her house. It wasn't that far away, and she didn't approve of drinking and apparating. Draco was quiet, and she asked him if anything was wrong.

'No, nothing. I was just thinking…well, thank you. I enjoyed tonight. I can't remember the last time I met people who didn't hate me.'

'Even if they were mudbloods?' said Hermione, in jest. She regretted it instantly; Draco dropped his head as if avoiding a blow. 'I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said that, Draco. It was cruel of me.'

'No, you have the right to say it. I did think of them, and you, in that way once and I have to carry that with me for the rest of my life.'

'No you don't' said Hermione softly. 'Everybody has the right to start again with a clean slate. That's what the centre is all about, and that's what I'm working for. Draco you made mistakes, and we can't deny it, but it's what you do from now on that's important.'

'I still don't know why you care about me, Granger. You, of all people, should have turned me away. You didn't, and I'm still worried it's going to harm you.'

_'I sought my soul, But my soul I could not see. __I sought my God, But my God eluded me. __I sought my brother, And I found all three.'_

Draco stopped and turned to her. 'What in Merlin's name was _that_ about?'

Hermione looked at confusion on his face, and burst out laughing. '_That_ was about poetry! It's by someone called William Blake. It means we're all in the same boat, and we should help each other. We're all we have.' She shrugged, and gave him a slight smile. 'So by helping you I'm helping myself.'

He looked at her, and noticed the street lamps reflecting in her eyes; which were very clear and bright. 'And who am I helping?'

'The world Draco, to become a better place for all of us.'

'Well, as long as you don't expect me to start "poetry"-ing.'

'No, you're probably right. Let's go home, philistine!'

'My family didn't come from Philista!' He looked at her a little sheepishly. 'At least, I don't think so. Where is it, anyway?'

-o0o-

Sunday at the centre was a much better day. Draco became surprisingly nervous as the time for his speech approached, but once he started his lifetime of training took over. He was still a Malfoy, still a member of one of the oldest families in the country – and these were his people. They listened to him, of course – that was their lifetime of training.

He told them of the plans and how, tomorrow, they would be able to get a shower and clean clothes. He said that Miss Granger – whom everyone knew – was trying to find jobs for them. Even Muggle jobs.

'I've spent some time there, recently' he said, and looked over at Hermione. 'They're not so different from us. They are capable of showing kindness and even friendship.

I think we can learn things from them. Miss Granger is going to be running classes on how to live in the Muggle world if any of you want to try getting work there. We can arrange all the Muggle identification you'll need, too.'

You could notice the difference in the Hall as soon as he'd finished speaking. For once, there was a buzz of conversation around the place, and the people seemed to sit up just a little straighter.

That delicate flame called "Hope" had reignited in their breasts.

Hermione locked the doors that Sunday evening feeling better than she had for ages. Their plans had come to fruition and tomorrow she could really start making a difference. Now, she just wanted to get her and Draco home. Mum would have a roast dinner ready, and then Hermione would probably have an early night. She smiled at the thought.

She was not to know that her expectations were going to be serious deflated by reality.


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing she noticed was a distinct lack of cooking smells. That was odd; the roast should be on by now as her parents preferred to eat early. As she and Draco were taking their cloaks off, her father appeared at the living room door.

'Hermione, can you come in here, please? Perhaps you should bring your friend with you, as well.'

Hermione looked at Draco and shrugged. She motioned with her hand and they went in, both sitting on the sofa. There was a definite atmosphere in the room. Jean Granger was sat in an armchair, playing with her hands, and didn't look up.

Hermione's first thought was that somebody had died. It couldn't be grandparents; they had all gone years ago, so perhaps an aunt or something. Hermione didn't really know them that well, but still prepared herself to be sad.

It wasn't that.

Her father opened the conversation. 'We…er, had a visit from Ron, today.'

Hermione remained looking at the carpet. 'Oh' she said.

'Yes. Apparently there were a few problems at the centre yesterday. You didn't mention anything.'

'No. I chose not to tell you that he made an idiot of himself, embarrassed me and attacked one of the clients.'

John Granger ignored that. 'He came round because he's not very happy with you working there anymore. He's had a think…'

'That makes a change' Hermione butted in.

'…and feels that it could affect your chances of promotion in the Ministry. He'd prefer it if you stopped working there and, to be honest, we tend to agree with him. We think it's probably better if you return to the Ministry and go back to just working as a part time volunteer in the centre – if at all.'

'Well, that's my life mapped out then, isn't it' said Hermione, with a glare. 'Suddenly Ron's joined the thinking classes, so I'd better go along with him.'

'He is your fiancé, dear.' Her mother had spoken at last.

Hermione looked at her in wide eyed amazement, and then very obviously looked at her un-ringed hand. 'Oh, is he? And was I ever going to be informed of this startling revelation? Or were you just planning on marching me down to the church one day?'

'Don't be silly, Hermione; you know what we mean. You two were made for each other, and it's time you started thinking about settling down.'

Hermione just laughed; she couldn't believe this. 'I'm twenty, Mother! I have no intentions of "settling down" with Ron, or anyone else, for the foreseeable future, and I'd thank you to stop calling him my "fiancé" because he's nothing of the sort.'

'Hermione, please calm down' said her father, in a conciliatory tone. 'Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, I'll admit, but Ron cares about you and is only concerned for your well being. He's not the only one, evidently.'

'What?' she spluttered. 'Excuse me…since when have I become a cause for concern?'

'The reason Ron came to see us is that he's been talking a friend of yours who is…well…worried about some of the company you're keeping.' John Granger's eyes automatically flicked to Draco, who sat very still, cursing himself for his stupidity.

'A "friend"?' Hermione tried to work out what was going on, and then put her face in her hands. 'So Hannah bloody Abbot's been sticking her oar in, has she? Pray tell; what lies and rumours has she been spreading about me?' Hermione could feel rage building inside her, but was determined to stay in control.

Her father asked her a direct question. 'Are you seeing him behind Ron's back?' He nodded towards Draco as he spoke.

'No! We work together.'

'That's not the impression your friend…'

'She's no friend of mine.'

'I'M SPEAKING, HERMIONE! Is it true she found you in a compromising position yesterday?'

'AM I ALLOWED TO DEFEND MYSELF NOW? Maybe you should know the real story. Maybe you should know that your "son-in-law" made a complete arse of himself yesterday. Maybe you should know that, if it wasn't for me, Mr Bloody Wonderful could be in Azkaban by now facing a charge of attempted murder! That's right, you heard me!

Now, not surprisingly, that upset me a bit. So, where was "my friend" at the time? Nowhere to be bloody seen, that's where! Only one person came to find out if I was alright. Only one person cared enough about me to actually come and find me! Draco.'

Her father ran his hand through his hair. 'I was coming on to him. Ron was quite surprised to find out he was staying here. Why didn't you tell him about it?'

'He doesn't pay the mortgage.'

'No, I do. Which means I have the right to know who's living under my roof.' He looked directly at Draco. 'Is it true that you were a Voldemort sympathiser?'

Draco pressed his hands together and put them to his chin. 'No, it isn't true. I wasn't a Voldemort sympathiser.'

He pulled his sleeve up, showing the skull on his forearm. 'I was much more than that.' He looked John Granger in the eye.

'I was a Death Eater.'

-o0o-

The silence in the room seemed to last a lifetime. John Granger just stared, and Jean put her hand to her mouth.

'Draco, don't' said Hermione in a whisper.

Hermione saw another new expression in his eyes. It was sorrow. Sorrow for the pain he'd caused her. 'They deserve to know…Hermione. We should have told them from the start. You said that everybody has the right to start again with a clean slate, but that slate has to be wiped clean first.'

He looked across the room. 'Mr Granger, I'll tell you the truth, and then I'll go.' He took a deep breath, and started.

'I come from one of the oldest Wizarding families in the country. We always married into other Wizarding families; people who were of our standard. We're known a "purebloods". It means more than just having two magical parents; it means that we believed wholeheartedly in the concept of Wizard supremacy.

We'd have nothing to do with half-bloods or Muggles – yes, I did call them mudbloods, I've called your daughter that – and especially not with Blood Traitors; Wizards like the Weasleys who thought that anyone with magical powers had the right to be in our world. You know about the four Houses at Hogwarts, don't you?'

Mr Granger nodded, cautiously.

'I was in Slytherin' Draco continued 'as all my family has been for generations. We believed, absolutely, that we had the right to rule; that we, and people like us, were the true protectors of our heritage.

Then Voldemort came along, and he agreed with us. He said he would lead us to a world where we would fulfil our destiny; our blood purity would take its rightful place – as rulers of the magical world, and everyone else would bow down before us.'

'_Lebensraum_' said Hermione, quietly. Draco looked at her. 'It's what Hitler told the Nazis' she said. 'The "inferior races" would be swept aside so the "pure" could rule.' Draco nodded; he'd heard of this Hitler. His ideas been rather admired amongst his father's circle.

'Of course, it was all a con. The only thing Voldemort wanted was power for himself, and we were as much his slaves as anybody. When my father was sent to Azkaban, we lost all the prestige we had in his inner circle. I was told to take his place as a Death Eater, as a punishment to my parents for letting him down. I was seventeen.'

'You could have refused' said John Granger.

'Don't be so stupid!' Hermione exploded. 'It wasn't a bloody invitation to a Rotary Club dinner. Draco would have been killed, probably having been forced to watch his mother die first. Isn't that right, Draco?'

Draco shook his head. 'Only to an extent, Hermione. At first I thought it was an honour – no, I really did. This was my chance to restore our fortunes, to get my father back in favour with Voldemort. Of course, it didn't work, but by then I was trapped.

I wanted to get out, but I wanted to save my family. I didn't know what to do.' Draco just shook his head.

'You could have stood up to him' said John Granger, his voice still harsh. 'My daughter did.'

'I know. I couldn't; I was a coward. I was scared of dying, which meant I just died a little every day anyway. Then, at the battle, I thought I saw a chance of getting my parents away from him. I tried to get Potter to Voldemort. I thought if I did that, he might let us go. Of course, I risked your daughter at the same time, but I didn't care; I just wanted my parents safe. Then, Hermione and Potter and even…Weasley saved my life. And Voldemort was killed and it was all over.

I hadn't achieved anything and I've lost everything.' He shrugged. 'I suffered the coward's fate, and I'll carry it with me for the rest of my life.'

Draco looked at Hermione's parents, both of whom had completely blank expressions on their faces, and then stood up.

'I'll get my things. You have shown me hospitality, and I want to thank you for that. I apologise for abusing the k…k…kindness you showed.'

He left the room and Hermione glared at her parents.

'Well?'

'Well…what?' said her father.

'Tell him. Tell him he can stay.'

'I think its best if he goes' said her mother. 'I don't want him in my house. Not after what they did to you.'

She stared at them in horror. 'I don't believe you! What happened to your ideals? What happened to giving people a chance?'

'There are some…people who don't deserve a second chance' said her father, not looking at her. 'Some people cannot be forgiven.'

'I CAN! I can try to help, to put it behind us and move on. Why can't you?' They didn't answer. 'Oh, I get it, I understand now. This isn't just about dropping a pound in a tin to salve your conscience, is it? This isn't just about the fine words and high morals. This is about actually getting off your arses and doing something.'

She flung herself from the room, meeting Draco coming down. She jabbed a finger into his chest. 'Wait there. Don't move!'

She kicked open her bedroom door and, pulling out her rucksack started throwing clothes into it, all the while wiping tears from her face.

Going back out to the stairs, she found Draco still standing where she left him, a look of confusion on his face. 'Hermione, what's going on?'

'We're leaving.'

'What, I don't…'

'Shut up and follow me.' She dragged him after her and out through the front door, slamming it shut. Then she took her keys from her handbag and pushed them through the letter box.

'No. You can't do this. This is your home, your parents. You have to stay.'

'I told you to shut up, Malfoy.' Hermione grabbed his arm, and there was a "pop" as the two apparated away.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N : This is my most alerted story ever, so thank you all. How about a little review telling what you like – and anything you don't. It all helps make me a better writer._

* * *

They landed in front of a rather run down guest house and Hermione rang the door bell. An elderly woman answered it, and looked at Hermione closely before shaking her head slightly.

'Do you have any room for a couple of nights please?' Hermione asked.

The woman let them in. 'Well…we do. It's £20 for a single or £30 for a twin.' She looked at them both, noting Draco's rather ill fitting clothes. 'We normally ask for the first night in advance' she lied '…if you've got it'.

Hermione pulled out her purse and gave the woman £60. 'We'll take a twin, for two nights to start with.'

Once she had the money in her hands, the landlady allowed a smile to cross her face. 'It's not a problem my dear. I'll give you Room 5 – it's one of our best – just up the stairs. You'll find the key in the lock, and breakfast is from 7:30 until 8:30. What name shall I put on the register?'

'Smith' said Hermione.

'Very well them _Mr and Mrs_ Smith. I hope you'll be comfortable.'

Hermione and Draco went up to the room, which was clean but rather frayed around the edges. Hermione dropped off her rucksack, sat on one of the beds and burst into tears. Draco looked around the room, scratched the back of his hand and then sat next to her and began patting her on the back. He wasn't sure what else he could do.

Hermione put her arms around him and leaned her head against his shoulder, sobbing. Draco assumed she wanted another squeeze…no, hug. So he did. Whilst she continued to cry into him, he pondered on her reaction. Was this normal for everyone, or just something Muggles did? Whatever the answer, Hermione certainly seemed to do a lot of it, which surprised him.

At school, he'd never seen her get like this. He'd seen her angry on enough occasions, and still remembered the time she'd punched him. He'd heard her scream and yell, and remembered the fire in her eyes during the battle. But, he'd never seen her sad. No…that was a lie; he had seen her sad. That time in the sixth year when The Weasel was making a fool of himself with the cheap girl, what was her name? The one with the blond hair who'd make a good mistress, as long as she kept her mouth shut. He couldn't remember, and it didn't matter.

He'd rather enjoyed her pain then; it provided a little light relief from trying to get the cabinet finished, but now, it was different. This made him feel unhappy too, and he thought he should try to do something about it. After all, it was his fault she'd rowed with her parents, and she'd given him a job, and been nice to him.

'Don't cry, Hermione.' She carried on sobbing. 'It'll be alright.' That made things worse. He was stuck, now, not knowing what to do. He looked around the room for inspiration, and saw a kettle. 'Would you…like a cup of tea?'

That seemed to work. 'Y…Y….Yes. T…T…Thank you, Drac..c...co' she hiccoughed through her sobs. Draco boiled the kettle – he'd seen her mother do it – and brought a cup to her. She took it from him, cupping it in her hands and sipped it, shaking slightly and just staring at the floor. Draco sat on the other bed, facing her.

'I'm sorry' he said, and meant it. 'This is all my fault.'

'No it isn't; it's them, not you. It shouldn't be like this, I thought we'd have a better world but it isn't. It's still full of prejudice and hate, and no-one's even trying to understand.' She wiped her eyes and looked at him. 'Why? Why can't they see?'

'There's a lot of wrong been done, I suppose. A lot of pain and suffering to be got rid of. Look at your parents; look what we did to them. Forced them from their home, put their only child in danger. I was part of that, so why should they do anything other than hate me? They've no reason to forgive; I'm not important to them.'

'I don't hate you, why should they?'

'Don't you?'

Hermione looked at him. 'No, I don't. I haven't forgotten, I don't think I ever will, but we can't live our lives the way it used to be.'

Draco came and sat next to her. 'Maybe people need teaching that. If you can persuade one person a day, then things will get better.'

Hermione nodded and sniffed and wiped her eyes again. 'It is better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.'

'Is that more poetry?'

She gave a tentative smile. 'No, it's a saying, from China.' Draco nodded. Hermione sat up straight, and took a couple of deep breaths. 'I suppose we should get some sleep; it'll be a long day tomorrow.'

'Good idea. Umm…thing is, I haven't got anything to wear, you know…in bed. And, we sort of have to get changed, don't we?'

She laughed, just a little. 'I'll go and get changed in the bathroom.'

-o0o-

He awoke in the night to the sound of Hermione sobbing quietly. Should he go and hug her again? He thought that might not be a good idea. They were colleagues, nothing more, and he remembered the insinuations her father had made about them. He must give no opportunity for further gossip that would only hurt her more. He must leave her in no doubt that there was nothing, never could be anything, between them. He didn't want it, and he was certain she didn't. She was still seeing Weasel and it would be so easy to do something they'd regret later on.

He turned on his side, away from her, and put his hand over his ear to dull the sound. Eventually, they both slept.

-o0o-

Problems magnify in the dark, and are pushed back with the dawn, so Hermione awoke in a slightly better frame of mind. Over breakfast the two of them discussed the day ahead. That was the focus for the next few hours, and her personal problems could be forgotten.

Once at the centre, she threw herself into her work; organising the volunteers, checking that the clothing was ready and making plans with the barber, Delphus Gamble. This man had been sent to them by Kingsley Shacklebolt. He'd just been released from Azkaban, having served a year for disagreeing with his former boss over who they should and shouldn't give haircuts too. His boss was a half-blood and had ended up in St Mungo's, so was unlikely to give Delphus his old job back.

Hermione made the position quite clear. 'I'm Miss Granger, and you take your orders from me. I'm Muggleborn, so if you don't like it queue up for a bowl of soup and then leave. Clear?'

'I won't be no trouble, Miss. I'm staying with my sister, not far from here. Her husband was killed in the battle, left her with a little kid, so we need the money. I had some time to think, in Azkaban, and that Vol…well, he didn't do the likes of us no good, I reckon. We was just mugs to listen to him.'

'He didn't do any of us any good, Delphus. Let me know if you need anything, and I'll try to get you an advance on your wages - if you need it.'

'Thank you, Miss.' Delphus considered th esituation as she walked off. She seemed alright, he supposed, for a Muggle. At least she didn't treat him like dirt, which was more than could be said for some of his former customers, purebloods though they might have been.

It wasn't all plain sailing that day, though. They'd seriously underestimated the demand for hot water, and Draco had to keep coming to fetch her to apply another heating charm to the water tank. After the fifth time, she handed him her wand and said 'You do it.'

He took her wand, gingerly. It had been over eighteen months since he'd last used one, and it didn't feel quite right in his hand. With a shrug he pointed it at the tank and said '_Thermeous_'. There was bang and he was thrown across the room. Hermione gave a shriek and ran to his side as he began to cautiously stand, rubbing his shoulder.

'I don't think your wand likes me very much.'

Hermione looked at him in horror, and put her hand over her mouth. 'I've cursed you with it, haven't I, in the past?'

'Yes, once or a dozen times, as I recall.' He was now trying to see if his neck would still move. 'Why?'

'Maybe wands remember' said Hermione. 'It knows I've treated you as an enemy. Maybe it was trying to protect me.'

'But Potter used my wand. I don't understand.'

Hermione thought for a moment. 'Maybe it knew he was doing something for the greater good.' She looked at him guiltily. 'Sorry, bad choice of words. I meant…for the benefit of us all.'

Their philosophical musings were interrupted by a gentle reminder from the next room. 'WE EVER GONNA GET ANY 'OT WATER IN 'ERE?'

'Sorry' Hermione called back, and cast the charm.

-o0o-

Kingsley Shacklebolt turned up unannounced in the middle of the afternoon, and she hurried out to meet him. He, too, looked as if he was having trouble with the smell. She took him through to the kitchen area, where it was less noticeable.

'How's it going?'

'A challenge!' said Hermione, a little too brightly. 'Actually, not too bad, the systems seem to be working.'

'So what's the matter?'

She waved her hands, vaguely. 'It isn't enough, or quick enough. This cold weather looks like it'll never end, and we just aren't giving them enough to eat and they're still sleeping rough.' She looked at him. 'Could we go to two meals a day, do you think?'

Kingsley pondered. 'There's a fine line to be drawn, Hermione; you have to see it from a wider view. If you go too far, too fast, people will react against it. I've already had letters complaining about what you've done up to now. It's the usual; "Use my taxes to help people who deserve to be helped." "What about little Teddy Lupin"; that kind of thing.'

Hermione opened her mouth, ready to launch into a tirade, but Kingsley held up his hand. 'I'll do what I can, but it will probably never be enough and you'll have to – try – to accept it.' He gave her a half smile.

'I have got some good news though; I've got you some volunteer mediwitches, it's only a couple of hours a day and they'll just be assessing. Anyone they think is bad enough they'll send to St. Mungo's. I spoke to Minerva McGonagall, as well; she's going to send down their stock of sleeping bags and they'll be arriving tomorrow.'

'Thank you Kingsley' Hermione said sincerely. 'I know you're doing all you can, and I do appreciate it.'

'Good. You're doing a fine job Hermione, and I'm proud of you.' He paused. 'How's everything else going?'

She looked at him blankly, and he seemed suddenly embarrassed. 'I heard a rumour that you've…you're not living at home anymore.'

'Who told you the good news? Ron?'

'He seemed a bit upset when I saw him this morning so I asked him how he was.'

Hermione shook her head. 'He and my parents are the least of my worries at the moment. But thank you for asking, I appreciate it. Now, got used to the smell yet? Fancy a tour?'

Kingsley chortled. 'I knew it would take a lot to put you off your stride.' His face became serious. 'You know, I really am impressed at what you've achieved here. When you come back to the Ministry, it won't be forgotten.'

-o0o-

They went for a pizza on the way home. Draco paid this time as he'd managed to get some money changed up.

'We can't carry on like this, Draco' she said as they ate, and he stiffened. 'I mean eating out every night, and paying for lodgings; we can't afford it.'

Draco relaxed somewhat. 'It won't be for too long. You're going back to your parents. You can take that look off your face; you are. I can't be responsible for breaking up another family. Then there's Wea...your boyfriend; you need to sort that out too.'

'What about you, though?'

'I'll find somewhere, probably sharing with somebody.'

'Any ideas who?' Hermione was looking at her plate and pushing a bit of pepperoni around with her finger.

'I'll find somebody. That's my problem to solve; you've helped me enough already.'

When they got back to the lodging, Hermione went to see the landlady to see if they could keep the room on for a little longer. She was invited into the kitchen to have a cup of tea.

'I'm happy to let you have the room, dear. How much longer do you think you'll need it?' Hermione shrugged. 'You aren't really Mr and Mrs Smith are you? Have the two of you fallen out with your parents…about your young man?'

Hermione nodded, and found tears welling in her eyes again. Why did she keep crying so much?

'What's your name?'

'Hermione.'

'I'm Doreen, but everyone calls me Renee. Is money tight?'

'A bit, we'll manage.'

'I'll tell you what' said Renee, 'keep the room on at £25 a night, and I'll do you a bit of tea when you come in. It won't be much, just pie and mash or something. How's that?'

'Thank you, Renee. That's so kind of you.'

'I know what it's like, love.' She got up and went to the dresser, returning with a photo which she put down in front of Hermione. 'That's me and my Bert. My parents threw me out when they found out about us.'

Hermione looked at the photo, a Muggle one of course. She could recognise Renee, despite the passage of time. Bert had his arm around her shoulder, and a big smile on his face. Bert was black.

'It just wasn't done in those days, you see, but I knew he was the one for me, as soon as I met him down the Palais de Dance. Wonderful dancer he was, and so full of life; not like the other boys. Forty five years we were together, so we didn't do too badly, did we?'

Hermione looked at the two of them, so happy together despite their differences. 'Did your parents ever…'

'Oh, they accepted him, once we were married. I don't know if they ever _liked_ him, as such, but they accepted him. I suppose that was enough to be going on with. Of course, it went both ways you know. Some of his family weren't too happy either, but we had our lives to lead.

Now, my offer still stands but there is a condition. You go and see your parents, eh? At least tell them where you are, and that you're safe.'

Hermione nodded and dried her eyes, then stood up. 'I'd better be going. Thank you, Renee.'

She left her landlady sat at the table looking at the photo. Renee had a small smile playing about her lips as she ran her fingers gently over Bert's face.


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione approached the house slowly, cautiously even. At one point she stopped and turned away. Then she stopped again. This was ridiculous, she told herself. It was her home, so why was she scared?

Thinking about it, she realised it wasn't fear of rejection, or that they might argue. No, she was returning as a different person. When she had left, just those few short days ago, it had represented a watershed in her life. She was no longer a girl; she was now a woman, with her own life to lead and her own mistakes to make.

Surprisingly it was the thought that she could make mistakes, and would have to take responsibility for them, that gave her comfort. She went up to the door and rang the bell. Eventually, it was answered.

'Hello, dad.'

-o0o-

Draco lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Hermione, after some persuasion from him, had finally gone to see her parents and he was feeling a little bereft. He assumed she would return at some stage to collect her things, leaving him alone once more.

It was all for the best, of course, and he was in a much better position now. His wages would cover renting a room here if he went into a single, and he'd still have money to feed himself. Eventually he'd find somewhere to share, and try to make something of his life.

It would be lonely until he did, though. He'd sort of got used to having her around. She was somebody to talk to and sometimes, when she got upset, somebody to care for. He'd quite liked that, when she'd turn to him for a hug and he could make her feel better.

He sat up and shook himself. 'Don't even think it, Draco. You were lonely so you looked for some kind of contact. She just happened to be the nearest woman; just like Parkinson, and look what she did to you.'

Pansy Parkinson had been one of Draco's few childhood acquaintances, being considered a potential mate by his parents. At school Draco had taken her as his "girlfriend" for appearances sake. He never loved her, but that was not important. One day she'd be his wife, and that was that.

She'd hurt him – his pride – when she left, though. It wasn't just the fact she'd gone off with Zabini, but the way she rubbed it in. Draco had known she would never marry him once the Malfoy star began to wane; that wasn't how things were done. Women married for money and prestige, and he had neither. All she had to do was inform him that he was no longer a suitable match, and that would have been that. He'd have shaken her hand and wished her well.

But no, she'd had to laugh at him, tell him he was a nobody. She boasted of how Zabini had come to her with his offer, and described the house she would live in. She'd pushed and goaded until he could take no more. He'd reached for his wand to hex her…and realised he didn't have one. He recalled her laugh, harsh and cackling, and the way she spat 'You're no better than a Mudblood, now' before walking out on him.

Granger wasn't like that, he knew, but it came down to the same thing in the end. She was a companion, who had begun to fill a gap in his life and soon she would be gone. He would see her at work – for the time being – and then go home. Perhaps they could become friends, that in itself would be a new concept for him, but never close. He couldn't imagine being invited to dine once she married The Weasel, which she surely would. Her parents wanted it.

-o0o-

He heard the front door shut, and a footfall on the stairs. The door opened, and there she was. He was surprised at how pleased he was to see her.

'Hello' he said.

'Hi!' She took her coat off and hung it on the peg, then switched the kettle on. 'It's still cold out there. I'm going to have a cup of tea, do you want one?' He nodded. 'So, what have you done this evening?'

'Not much' he said. 'Just had a bit of a rest.'

'Oh, that's nice.' She handed him a cup, and they sat in silence for a while. 'Aren't you going to ask me?'

'What?'

'How it went. ..With my parents.'

'Well…I didn't want to pry. It's nothing to do with me, is it? How did it go?'

She gave a soft laugh. 'OK. We sort of said "sorry" to each other, and had a talk about what happened and what my plans are. It was all quite polite, so I suppose that's a good sign.'

'Yes, it is.' He looked around the room, and drank some tea. The question he wanted to ask grew and grew until it could no longer be contained. 'So…when are you going back?'

'I'm not.' She'd said it very, very quietly.

'But they're your parents! You have to live with them.'

She looked a little confused at that. 'We had a talk – we didn't argue – and decided that maybe…a bit of independence would be…well…better for me.' She wasn't looking at him anymore.

'So, what really happened?'

She stood up and began folding some clothes. 'They said…they…I could only come back under their terms.'

'Which are?' He didn't really need to ask; he knew the answer.

'That I go back to the Ministry, and…'

'I don't come with you.'

'Yes.'

'Well, that's it then.'

'I know. We'll have to start looking for somewhere.'

'That's not what I meant.' Draco stood up and got her rucksack and began putting her things in it.

'What are you doing?'

'You're going home, Granger.'

She grabbed the rucksack off of him. 'My dad's at home, not here; I'm not going anywhere.'

'Yes you are.' He took it back from her.

'No I'm not.' She snatched it from him and glared. 'You don't tell me what to do, Malfoy.'

He made to take it back again, so she held it behind her.

'Hermione, please listen to me. You've got the centre up and running, and done fantastically well, but you have to let go now. It's costing you too much.'

'And what happens to you?'

'I get out of your life. I should never have come into it in the first place; I'm bad news.'

'How can you say that?'

He sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. 'Face the facts. Since you started talking to me, and I'm still not sure why you did it, look at what's happened.' He started counting the reasons off on his fingers. 'You've left home, had a row with your boyfriend, had rumours and insinuations thrown at you by your friends…and maybe ruined your career. You can't tell me that's all a coincidence, can you?'

She was still staring at him. 'I can do that as well.' She made a fist, and then stuck up her middle finger. Draco's eye widened slightly. 'I've been facing problems since I was twelve.' Her index finger joined the middle one. 'I've never run away from them yet. Get the message?' She started waving her two fingers at him. 'I don't back down Draco, I never have. When I see injustice I fight it'

'Even if it hurts you?'

'I've been hurt before. I didn't back down then, either. And before you get into all the _Mea culpa_ crap, you're useful to me. I need you at the centre; they need you. So stop trying to run out on me. Now, if you've no further objections…'

'What about Weasley? Are you willing to give him up as well?'

'That's none of your bloody business.'

'Isn't it? Have you split up with him?'

'No.'

'Do you want to?'

Hermione was little slower answering this time. 'I'm not exactly pleased with what he said to my parents. He's got no right to…'

'Are you going to answer me?'

'I don't know. We've been through a lot together, and he sort of needs me to look after him, but…I don't know.'

'Somehow, I don't think you and I sharing a flat is going to help matters. I've never seen him as the most rational and considered person, if I'm honest. You might want to consider that.'

'I'll sleep on it.' Hermione took her nightdress back out from the rucksack, and went off to the bathroom.

-o0o-

Once again, Draco awoke to the sound of sobbing coming from the other bed. This time, he couldn't ignore it and knew he had to do something to help her. Rising quietly, he went over to her.

'Hermione?

She lifted the duvet slightly and he slipped in beside her. As he wrapped her in his arms as she spooned into him. 'Talk to him, yes?'

He heard her sob a 'Yes', and slowly her tears stopped and her breathing slowed. Once he was convinced she was asleep he extricated his arm and returned to his own bed.

-o0o-

Hermione's personal problems got pushed into the background once they got to the centre. Food had to be organised, and clothing made ready, and the hot water prepared. The vast majority of people had had at least one shower now and there was a definite improvement in the atmosphere. Delphus was working hard, and slowly the appearance of the clients began to improve – on the outside.

One day, a man approached her and asked if he might have a quiet word. He'd been coming to the centre for a few months, but she didn't know his name.

'Miss, I've managed to get a job' he said, with a shy smile.

'Oh, that's wonderful! I'm so pleased.'

'Thank you. It's not much, just working in a kitchen, but it's something. The thing is, I still need to find somewhere to live, so …would it be possible for me to come in and have a shower, do you think? I thought that, as I was earning, maybe I could pay…you know…start giving a little bit back.'

She gave him a warm and generous smile. 'Of course you can. We'd be very happy to see you. I'm sure we can arrange for a change of clothes too, until you get yourself sorted.'

He was one back in work, but there were still well over a hundred others coming through the door every day. Kingsley had been working quietly behind the scenes and found a few more vacancies which they advertised at the centre. It added to the workload because the volunteers were vetting people for suitability before sending off a short-list to the potential employers. Hermione had decided this was a good thing to do, though. Once word got around that the centre was actually helping find new staff, and providing good ones, more employers were likely to use them.

These were all small and superficial victories, though news of somebody getting a job always helped raise moral, and convince those still waiting that it was possible. There was still a very long way to go, however.

Most were still sleeping rough, and the cold spell still had them all in its grip. Hermione had had a look at the menu, and consulted with some people at St. Mungos. By changing some of the ingredients – surprisingly they had suggested getting cheaper and fattier cuts of meat – they had managed to get the meal up to round 1,200 calories. It was still less than half the recommended intake. She knew many people were scavenging for food, and it broke her heart. These were fellow humans scouring the streets of the city for discarded take aways, or rummaging in bins behind restaurants.

The mediwitches had sent some people to St Mungo's, but they were only the worst cases. In 21st century Wizarding Britain there were people being admitted to hospital with malnutrition, and all its attendant conditions. After the second case of scurvy was reported, Hermione raided the funds to buy multi-vitamin powder to add to the meal.

-o0o-

In the midst of all this, the inevitable paperwork still had to be kept on top of. Whilst not dealing with the plumbing or other day-to-day problems, Draco had become a kind of office manager. He dealt with the bills and ordering and generally tried to make sure they didn't run out of money. It was work he found himself rather enjoying.

He and Hermione had a small office just off the kitchen, and they were sat in there a couple of days after she'd seen her parents when there was a knock on the door. Draco opened it to find himself face-to-face with Ronald Weasley.


	10. Chapter 10

Draco and Ron faced each other and immediately went into "I'm the Alpha Male" mode. They stood as tall as possible, with heads up and eyes locked. They even puffed their chests out. Hermione, who was watching, almost giggled. Boys!

Ron marked his territory first. 'I'm here to see my girlfriend.'

'I will see if Miss Granger is free. Please wait here' said Draco, shutting the door. As he did so he realised he'd made an error; he'd admitted he knew both the visitor and whom his girlfriend was. Damn.

'I'd better see him' said Hermione. 'Would you mind giving us a bit of space?'

Draco opened the door. 'Miss Granger will see you now.' He turned to her. 'I'll be just outside – making sure the soups out of harm's way.'

Ron stood rather awkwardly in the middle of the room. 'Hello.'

'Hi.'

'I was just passing.'

'Oh.' She wasn't looking at him.

'So…I thought…we've not seen each other for a while, have we?'

'Well, I've been busy, you know. What with here and looking for somewhere to live.' She was very proud of the fact she'd not allowed any sarcasm to creep in.

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. 'Look, I'm sorry about that. I never meant…I was just…'

'It's done now.'

'So, where are you staying?'

'At a guest house, nothing special.'

'You could have come to The Burrow.'

'Maybe not. Are you going to sit down?'

Ron sat. 'What about him?' He flicked his head towards the door.

'What about him?'

'Where's he staying?

'The same place. I wasn't going to turn him back out on the streets.'

'Must be expensive – two rooms.' Ron wasn't certain, but had a fair idea of what the answer would be, and he knew Hermione would never lie to him.

Hermione took a deep breath, he'd find out eventually. 'We're sharing. It's a twin room; two beds.'

Ron stiffened and stared at her. His ears started to take on a pink tinge. 'Big room is it? Long walk between the beds?'

Hermione wasn't going to get upset. 'We're sharing a room, that's all, and if you don't believe me then you might as well go now.'

'No, I believe you' Ron said quickly. He was fighting for his girlfriend, and he wasn't going to give her up to Malfoy that easily. 'I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight. We've not been out together for ages.'

Hermione gave him a small smile. 'I suppose I have abandoned you a bit recently, haven't I? Where do you want to go?'

'I could come round…' he saw her face fall a touch, 'or we could meet somewhere. What about "The Leaky Cauldron" at 8 o'clock?'

'No, not there. Let's go to "The Hippogriff and Jockey" instead.'

'Ok.' There was a rather awkward silence between them. 'Well, I'd better go, I suppose. I'll see you tonight, then.'

'Yeah, tonight.'

Once he'd left, Hermione put her head in her hands; she wasn't looking forward to this at all. She was still in that position when Draco came back into the room. He sat at his desk and carried on working.

'I'm going out tonight' said Hermione.

'Uh-huh.'

'With Ron.'

'Hmm.'

They worked on in silence for a minute or so.

'I may not be back; I might stay over at his house.'

'Alright.'

'You don't mind?'

Fortunately they had their backs to each other, so she couldn't see him take a deep breath to steady himself. 'What is there to mind? He is your boyfriend. Now, where did I put that invoice? Ah, here it is.'

Hermione found it impossible to place anything on her desk for the next half hour. Everything had to be SLAMMED down. The stapler went off like a canon every time she used it.

Eventually she spun round and glared at him. 'So what's your problem, Malfoy?'

He looked up, trying to appear bemused. 'I wasn't aware I had one.'

'Well…that's good, then. Because I don't have to explain myself to you, you know.'

'Yes, I know that.'

They spent the rest of the day in silence. Or rather, Hermione wasn't talking to him and he was quite glad of it.

-o0o-

Draco was laid on his bed reading a Muggle newspaper when Hermione came out of the bathroom. She had a rather shapeless sweatshirt on over her jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail and she wasn't wearing any make-up. Many adjectives had been applied to her over the years, but glamorous was never one of them.

'Well, I'm off now.'

'Right. Have fun.'

'What's that meant to mean?' she demanded of him.

'Fairly standard dictionary definition of the word "fun" – deriving enjoyment or pleasure.'

She started searching through her handbag. 'I've got my keys, and money. I am going, you know.'

'Yes. I'll see you when you get back, or tomorrow.'

She slammed the door as she left. Draco threw the paper to one side and sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands and his mind full of mixed emotions. By tonight she and The Weasel would either still be together – or not.

If they were, he would have to move out into his own place. Weasley would never accept him, and them sharing a room – or even a flat – would only lead to arguments. He couldn't let that happen; he couldn't let her be damaged. He was starting to like Hermione - well, respect her. She was hard working and intelligent and was actually trying to do something to help people – his people. He still didn't really know why she wanted to. He wasn't wholly convinced with her "Never Again" point. Perhaps, and this was strange to him, she just liked helping those who couldn't help themselves. Maybe it was simply that she was kind.

On the other hand, if she split up with Weasley, what then? They would both need somewhere permanent to live, and it made sense to share the cost. Could it work? Hermione Granger (current heroine) and Draco Malfoy (former Death Eater) sharing - "living together". That had connotations, which could also potentially damage her.

Either way, she could be in trouble. Draco shook his head and couldn't work it out. If he knew more about the Muggle world he would have had a phrase for it, of course. "How did she become the bad guy?"

-o0o-

"The Hippogriff and Jockey" was not the most salubrious place, but it was quiet and they were unlikely to see anyone they knew – like Hannah Abbot. Ron was already there when she arrived, and got up to meet her. She gave him a very brief hug, and he got her a butterbeer. They sat together in a rather strained silence for a while.

'So, how have you been? Ron asked, eventually.

Hermione shrugged. 'You know.'

'Mum's been asking what's going on, why you haven't been coming round. I told her you were busy with work.'

'Well, I have been I suppose.' They lapsed back into silence.

'I've missed you, Hermione. All of a sudden things seem to have changed between us. Are you still angry with me about the soup thing?'

She picked up her glass, watching the liquid as she swirled it around. 'That's part of it. It was such a stupid thing to do, Ron. Those people _need_ us at the moment and something like that can drive them away. If that happens – they could die.'

'It was just seeing him, like that. It brought back so much. I'm sorry; it won't happen again. Am I forgiven?' He risked a small smile at her. She didn't return it.

'It isn't just that, Ron. The whole thing with me working there, and then my parents; even Hannah and the way she reacted. It's like the whole world is ganging up on me and telling me how to live my life. I feel like I'm a child who has to be watched and told when it's bed time. Do you know what I mean?'

It was his turn to say nothing.

'What I'm doing now is important to me. I really feel I'm making a difference.'

'You could do that at the Ministry.'

'I'm not so sure any more. There I'm just part of a machine, and only a little cog. Maybe I'm better off outside it.'

Ron shifted a little in his seat. 'Where does Malfoy come into it?'

Hermione gave a rather weary laugh. 'He's just helping out, that's all. He knows how to speak to them, and they trust him in a way they'll never trust me.'

'You're spending a lot of time with him.'

'We work together, so it's hard not to. As for the rest, that's just circumstances.' She looked at him properly for the first time that evening. 'There's nothing going on. He doesn't care about me.'

'Hannah seemed to think you were pretty friendly.'

'We had ONE drink together. Are you honestly telling me you've never done that with a colleague?' She thought it best not to mention the curry and night out.

'My colleagues aren't Death Eaters.'

'Oh for God's sake, Ron!' Hermione exploded. 'How many times? It's what he was brought up to be. He was programmed from birth. Yes, he could have fought it, and been like Sirius, but he wasn't. He's more like Regulus; by the time he woke up to what was happening it was too late. He knows exactly what he did, and how wrong it all was.'

'Are you going to stop associating with him?' Ron asked, very quietly.

'No.'

'I knew you'd say that. You're going to do what you want to do and to hell with everyone else. Aren't you?'

'I've only got one life, Ron, and this is it. If I'm not doing what I want, then what am I doing? I'm just keeping everyone else happy and to hell with me.'

Ron nodded and looked down. 'So that's the end of us, then.'

Hermione's face crumpled as the tears arrived. 'I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't want to hurt you, and I did love you…'

'Did?'

'We change, and sometimes we can't both change enough. Truly, I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I can't be what you want me to be.'

Ron wiped a tear from his eye, and stood up. He wanted to say so much to her, to tell her how much he loved her and how much she meant to him, but couldn't. 'Have a good life, Hermione. Honestly, I mean it. I'll never forget you.'

Then he was gone, and she was left sitting on her own with tears running unchecked down her cheeks.

-o0o-

Hermione spent hours wandering aimlessly through the streets. Memories of Ron, and the times they'd spent together, swirled through her mind and she fought to tell herself that she'd done the right thing.

They'd spent a day in Hogsmeade laughing and joking and she'd never been so happy.

They'd never agree that history was behind them and the future needed to be built.

He'd carried her from Malfoy Mansion, telling her that everything would be alright and that she was safe.

He'd never fully support her in her quest.

She'd kissed him during the battle when she thought they were all going to die, and felt his arms around her.

She had work to do.

Eventually she apparated back to the guest house, exhausted by her emotions. Draco knew exactly what had happened the moment she walked through the door. He didn't say anything; he just stood up and held his arms out to her.

She came to him for a hug and let the tears flow freely. Draco held her, and stroked her back, making soothing noises. When she had calmed a little he picked her up and laid her on her bed, holding her until she cried herself to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

She worked like an automaton for the next couple of days. Food was served and clothes sorted and washed. People were interviewed for jobs and she ate and drank and slept – just like nothing was wrong. It was, though.

Ron had been part of her life for ten years, and now he was gone. She tried telling herself it was for the best, that they had grown apart and it was time to move on, but a part of her wanted to run back to him and beg forgiveness and ask him to take her back. Perhaps she always would.

Draco was also having problems with her changed status. He knew that she was hurting, and wanted to help her through it. She'd stood by him when everyone had turned their backs, but he couldn't get too close. Even he had heard of "rebound", and knew it probably would be possible to make a move on her.

The trouble was he didn't want to. Well, part of him didn't; the part that was an intelligent human who thought about relationships and the future. They were too different in their upbringing and outlook. Despite everything, she was still a Muggle. It put a gulf between them, although it was cultural rather than political. He didn't hate her for being "beneath" him as he once would have done, but her world was alien to him. Like most humans, he was always going to be slightly scared of something he didn't understand.

But, there was also a part of him that was male – and she was female – and they shared a room. It was all very confusing, but for the moment the intelligent part won, and he tried to keep it as colleagues who were also friends.

He knew she still wasn't sleeping very well, although the crying seemed to have stopped. She just seemed permanently tired and down, and it worried him. What could he do about it?

It was Thursday when he came up with a plan.

'Hermione, when was the last time you had a day off?' She had to think about that one, and couldn't give a definitive answer. 'I thought so. You need a break; I think you should stop working at weekends.'

'I don't know, Draco. Could the centre cope without me?'

'Nobody's indispensible, you know. What would happen if you fell off a broom and ended up in St. Mungo's? We'd cope. It'll do you good to get away for a while.'

'What would I do?'

He shrugged. 'Things. Have a lie-in, go shopping.' He hesitated, should he suggest it? 'Go and see your parents.'

She had a think about it, chewing on a nail. 'Well…I suppose…' She looked up at him. 'We could try and find somewhere to live, couldn't we?'

'Umm…yes, we could. Look, are you sure about this? Wouldn't you want to share with someone else? You know, a friend?' Her face told him he'd just said the wrong thing. 'No, I didn't mean it like that; I meant a girl friend.'

'The only one I've got is Ginny Weasley, and she's up in Hollyhead, and I'm not sure if she'd even talk to me now. I haven't really got any friends, apart from Harry and…I never really got on with anyone at school apart from them. I suppose we never had much of a chance.'

That made Draco feel so bad. Here she was, intelligent and quite attractive – and lonely. Maybe that was why she threw herself into things; she kept herself busy because there was nothing else for her to do. Maybe, he thought, that was why she had an empathy with him. They were both lonely really; neither of them had any friends and he'd driven away the few she had.

'Well, I suppose we can't stay here forever, can we?'

'No. Renee's nice, but I want somewhere to call home where I can have some things, and a chair to sit in. Maybe we could even get you some Muggle clothes, as well; make it easier for us to go out occasionally.'

'Yes, I suppose so. Would you know what to buy me?'

For the first time in days, she smiled. 'I think I can manage. OK, I'll make sure there are enough volunteers in over the weekend, and we'll do that. I might even have a bit of time to start planning the Muggle familiarisation courses; we should really get those up and running.'

She slept much better that night.

-o0o-

Friday went quite well, as long as they ignored the long term problems. She was able to send some people off for interviews, and got the good news that a couple of other people had found work.

The weekend rotas had enough people on them who knew what they were doing, so all in all Hermione was relatively happy she wouldn't be missed. She did wish more Witches had mobile phones, as it would make contacting her so much easier. She asked around, just in case somebody did, but got a lot of blank looks.

'A fellytone you can carry in your pocket? And Muggles thought of that? Well I never! Where do the wires go?'

Hermione and Draco left the centre that evening in quite a good mood. Two days off! This called for a bit of a celebration.

'How do you fancy going for a drink?' he asked her.

'Why not?' she said. 'That sounds good.' Suddenly there was a flash of fire in her eyes. 'Let's go to "The Leaky Cauldron".'

She started marching up Diagon Alley. 'No!' said Draco, running to catch her up. 'Let's go somewhere else, Hermione. A Muggle pub; I'll buy you a Spritzer.' She carried on walking. 'Two Spritzers.' She was not to be deflected. 'Oh Merlin.'

Hermione marched into the pub and up to the bar. 'Hannah! How lovely to see you again! How are you?'

Hannah Abbot didn't look exactly pleased to see her. 'Hermione' she said, in acknowledgement.

'Yes, I am' said Hermione, with a sweet smile. 'Hermione Granger – homeless and boyfriend less thanks to _somebody_ who just couldn't keep their big mouth shut.'

'I don't know what you mean.'

'Oh, don't you? You don't know who it was who told Ron that they were - how was it put? – "worried about the company I'm keeping"? Then Ron, because he cared about me, had to go and tell my parents. Gosh, I bet you never thought that would happen, did you? Satisfied now, are you? Cow!'

'Get out of my pub; you're barred.'

'Oh, I'm not barred; I'm leaving. Stay out of my life, Abbott. You hear me? Let's go Draco. I fancy having a drink in a decent place.' Hermione marched out of the door again.

A couple of elderly Wizards, who had been standing at the bar, looked quite shocked.

'That was…Hermione Granger, wasn't it? Well I never; she always comes across as such a nice girl.'

Hannah leant on the bar, thinking. 'Yes, she does, doesn't she? Order of Merlin, Golden Trio. Maybe people should get a chance to see the real "Little Miss Butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-knickers".' She glared at the door. 'Nobody insults me in my own pub. I'll wipe that smug little grin off your face, Granger.'

Hermione waited until she was outside before she turned to Draco with a big smile on her face. 'I enjoyed that!'

Draco had his face in his hands. 'Hermione, you shouldn't have done it. One thing I did learn; only pick fights you're certain you're going to win. Of course, even that isn't guaranteed.'

'Against her? What contest? Now, what about those Spritzers you promised me?'

-o0o-

Hermione awoke the next morning, and really wished she hadn't. Even though her eyes were open she couldn't see anything, and her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She tried to sit up. Big mistake.

'Ah, back in the land of the living are you?' She tried to turn to the source of the noise, but couldn't. 'Obviously not.' Draco appeared in front of her, holding a glass. 'Drink this.'

'Wha…'

'Oh, don't try and use big words. Or any words at all. It's a pepper-up potion. I went down to Diagon Alley, thought you might need it.'

Hermione drank down the vile tasting potion, and honestly thought her stomach was going to jump up through her mouth. Then the steam came out of her ears, and she felt her head rattle. That was a bit better.

'What happened?'

'You honestly don't remember?' She shook her head. Perhaps she shouldn't have done. 'You got drunk, Granger. As drunk as a skunk, as high as a kite…as relaxed as a newt.'

'Oh. Why didn't you stop me?'

Draco was now sat on the other bed, with his arms folded and a smirk on his face the like of which she hadn't seen since their fifth year.

'Because you had a wand, and I didn't – and you threatened to hex me.'

Hermione put her head in her hands and made a sort of whimpering noise. 'I didn't! Did I?'

'Yes. So I told you there was a much better pub down the road, and managed to get you outside. Once the fresh air hit you…' He made little explosion movements with his hands…'Poof! Then you told me nobody had ever liked you and started crying. And you threw up.'

She peeped out from between her fingers. 'I'm sorry.'

'Hmmm. Anyway, Renee sent you up some toast when you didn't go down for breakfast. Allegedly we were going out today, and it's already nearly eleven.'

The pepper-up potion had taken effect, and Hermione felt confident she could stand. She noticed she was still dressed, and looked at Draco.

'Well, I wasn't going to do it, and you were incapable' he said simply.

-o0o-

They visited a letting agent and got some details of vacant flats and bedsits from him. They lied somewhat, and said they would look at them over the weekend. It was easier than explaining they'd be apparating between locations, so could do ten in a day.

They decided to take the third one they saw. It was a nice little place, Hermione thought. It was custom built rather than a conversion. The price was reasonable, it was in quite a good area, and there were shops nearby. It had two bedrooms.

'What do you think?' she asked.

Compared to what he'd been brought up in it was a pokey little hole,

'It's fine. As long as you're sure about this?'

She nodded and smiled. 'Yes, I think it'll work. It'll be nice to have a base, anyway, and a few things around.' She looked around at their new home. 'Why did I go silly last night?'

'You tell me.'

'I just…wanted to get away from it all; Ron, my parents, everyone seems to be ganging up on me. Even Hannah, I thought she was a friend. I just wanted to feel good for a change.'

'Did it help?'

She looked at him from under her lashes. 'It won't happen again.'

'I hope it doesn't.' His face became serious. 'Hermione, I think you've made an enemy out of Abbott. I'm worried about you; I told you all along not to get too close.'

She smiled at him. 'I can look after myself. Come on, let's go and see the agent.'

All the paperwork was done in her name, mainly because she had the identification and bank accounts needed to do anything in the Muggle world. They would be able to move in next Saturday, which meant they could give Renee a bit of notice. They thought maybe they'd take her out to dinner, as a little "thank you".

Once they were finished, they went shopping and brought Draco some clothes. It was quite fun, actually. He, in common with most Wizards of his class, had no real idea of Muggle clothing, and she had to divert him away from his more esoteric choices. She mainly picked simple things, in a limited range of colours such as blue and black, although she allowed him one horrendous shirt in the most lurid orange she ever seen – because he fell in love with it.

They left the shop just as it was getting dark, quite tired after their day out.

'Fancy a quick drink before we head back?' she asked. He shook his head, unable to hear her over the noise of the traffic. She leant in closer to his ear. 'Hair of the dog?' He looked at her and smiled, then leant in close to her. 'Just one, if you insist. I'm not carrying you home again!' They laughed.

-o0o-

On Sunday, she went to see her parents and returned jut a little down. They had not been pleased to hear that she'd split up with Ron. When she told them she was renting a flat with Draco things got a little tense. Her father had basically said that if she wanted to "throw her life away on a bunch of wastrels it was her funeral" and left the room. She arranged with her mum to collect her things next weekend, then made her excuses and left. Her mother cried a bit once she was gone.

-o0o-

They arrived at work on Monday to find that Florence, one of the volunteers, had already opened up. She seemed strangely nervous, and wouldn't look them in the eye.

They went onto their office and started planning for the day. Hermione read the report she'd been left and was pleased to see that everything had gone well over the weekend. It looked like they could go to a five day week after all.

Shortly afterwards a tapping at the window indicated that the owl had arrived with the morning's paper. Draco went to get it and settled down to check the headlines.

'Oh Merlin!'

Hermione looked up from her work. 'Anything happened?'

'I told you not to cross swords with her.'

He passed her the paper. She glanced at it, and Draco saw the blood drain from her face. The front page was mostly taken up with a picture of the two of them. Over it ran the headline:

"**Whose side is she REALLY on?"**


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione felt her stomach lurch and, for a moment, thought she was going to be sick. But, like a moth drawn to a flame she just couldn't tear her eyes away.

At the bottom of the page was a sub-heading.

**Today, The Daily Prophet exclusively reveals that Britain's favourite Witch may have a tarnished cauldron. Evidence had come to light that HERMIONE GRANGER'S loyalties may have lain less with The Saviour than we have been led to believe. It is not pleasant reading, but The Daily Prophet has never been frightened of publishing the truth. Turn to pages 2, 3, 4 and 5 for more details of the story that will rock Wizarding Britain to its foundations.**

They read on, horrified. The story was accompanied by further pictures of the two of them, which they recognised had all been taken over the weekend. Pictures of them looking at flats, and shopping, and sitting in a pub - together. They had been followed all day, and never realised.

The story itself was a masterpiece of journalism at its worse, full of innuendo and smear. Nothing was stated as fact, but questions were phrased in such a leading way the reader could draw their own conclusions.

**Hermione Granger has always been thought of a heroine. It was she, we have been told, who fought valiantly with The Saviour to rid Britain of its greatest evil. Is that honestly the case?**

**Frizzy-haired Granger (20) appears to have deserted the Ministry in favour of a "soup kitchen" doling out charity to former Voldemort supports. We ask: Is this an example of her goodness, or is there something more sinister behind it? **

**Hannah Abbott (20), the bright and vivacious new landlady of The Leaky Cauldron, one of Britain's best Wizarding pubs, is in no doubt. 'She's turned the place into her own personal fiefdom. I used to volunteer there – I try to do my bit -until she forced me out. All of a sudden, she got this new source of funding – from where I wouldn't like to guess – and everything changed. Then, Draco Malfoy appeared from nowhere, and suddenly he's her **_**major factotum.'**_

**Miss Abbott's testimony raises two key questions in The Daily Prophet's mind.**

**First, where did this money come from? We think you have the right to know.**

**Second, what is the role being played by Draco Malfoy? Servant or Master?**

**Malfoy, a self-confessed "former" Death Eater is, of course, the son of Lucius Malfoy, who was imprisoned for his part in the attack on the Ministry of Magic that led to the revelation Harry Potter was, indeed, The Saviour.**

**Lucius Malfoy and his wife Narcissa (48) died, in circumstances which have never been made clear, when their house was raided by Ministry Aurors a year ago. **

**The house, Malfoy Manor in Gloucestershire, was where Granger was taken to be "tortured", allegedly, by Bellatrix Lestrange (50), the psychotic mass murdering aunt of…Draco Malfoy. It can now be revealed that one of the snatchers who "captured" Granger is a regular recipient of her charity, receiving sumptuous meals and free clothing from her own hands.**

**Miss Abbott has more revelations to make. 'Granger has split up with her long term boyfriend, Ronald Weasley, since Malfoy appeared on the scene. It's an open secret that she's now living with him and her parents have thrown her out over their relationship.'**

**Ronald (Ron) Weasley is, of course, well known to all of you. He was the hero who personally destroyed two of the horocruxes, so helping The Saviour kill Voldemort. He, not surprisingly, is still unable to talk about his heartbreak, BUT HIS MOTHER WILL.**

**Molly Weasley (52) may come across as a humble housewife, but we know she was a true heroine of The Battle, protecting the children of Hogwarts and killing Bellatrix Lestrange in a duel that has passed into legend.**

'**My poor Ronnie's so upset he's having trouble going to work. He's an Auror you know (she told our reporter, pride shining through her tears). Kingsley Shacklebolt himself offered Ron the position.' **

**She appears less happy to talk about Granger. 'I took that girl in and treated her as my own daughter' was all she'd say. She then kindly asked our reporter if he would like to stay for dinner. Truly, Molly Weasley is a shining example to us all.**

**As for Granger, what are her plans? We know of her frightening intelligence, but it appears she was not well thought of at Hogwarts School. The heroic Severus Snape, whose tireless work as a spy for the Light has earned him our unending gratitude, considered her 'Insufferable' according to Miss Abbott. Did he have his suspicions? What had he heard whilst braving death at Voldemort's side? We shall never know.**

**WE think "Untrustworthy" might be a better description. Is it possible that she and her lover could be recruiting a new army to carry on the struggle? For the sake of us all, including her, this question MUST be investigated. **

"**What is the Ministry doing?" we think our readers will be asking. Is the Minister himself "Doing a Fudge"? WE want to know the answers. WE think YOU deserve them.**

**WE HAVE FOUGHT ONE WAR AGAINST THOSE WHO WISHED TO ENSLAVE US, AND WE DO NOT WANT ANOTHER.**

**THE SAVIOUR HIMSELF HAS SPOKEN TO US**

'**I thought Hermione was my friend. I cannot believe she has turned out to be a traitor. I think it's disgusting.'**

Hermione read those last words, and cried out in pain. Harry? Harry thought that of her? No, this could not be happening. She looked at Draco, wanting him to tell her it wasn't true, that she was in a nightmare from which she would awake.

'Hermione, I'm so sorry. After all you've done, and they treat you like this.'

'I don't know what to do. What can we do, Draco?'

Before he could answer there was a knock at the door, and Florence put her head in. She looked quite excited.

'The Minister's here! He hasn't got any Aurors with him, though. Shall I show him in?

-o0o-

Kingsley came into the room, his face more serious that she had seen it since the end of the war.

'Kingsley! It isn't true. I swear to you none of it….'

He held his hand up. 'Hermione, please! Of course it isn't true; this is the "Prophet" we're talking about.' He allowed a small smile to grace his lips. 'Welcome to the wonderful world of politics.'

'You don't believe them?' Draco asked, shocked.

'Obviously.' Kingsley picked up the paper and glanced at it before tossing it disparagingly to the side. 'I know where this "new source of funding" came from.'

'So it was the Ministry' said Draco.

'Yes. As for me "doing a Fudge", do you honestly think I'd let a place like this exist if I didn't know what was going on in here?'

Hermione looked at him questioningly, and he was forced to chuckle. 'I'm sorry. The Auror School have been using it for their _Concealment and Disguise _units.' He shrugged, a little sheepishly. 'We've been putting money in the collecting tins to cover the cost of the meal.'

'You've been _SPYING_ on us?' Hermione started to forget the article, and colour began to return to her cheeks.

'Not spying, Hermione' said Shacklebolt, rather firmly. 'I prefer to think of it as _intelligence gathering_, and I would remind you you're still a Ministry employee – which make me your boss.' He gave her a conciliatory smile. 'Hey, come on, you aren't the only one who worked out the people coming in here could be potential targets for the extremists.'

'I'm sorry.' She put her head in her hands. 'It's destroyed us though, hasn't it? People won't forget something like this.'

Kingsley noticed Draco put his arm around her, and wondered if there was something going on between them. No smoke without fire, and all that.

'I'm not done with the paper yet. As I said, you're still a Ministry employee, and we look after our own. We haven't actually got round to dumping all the laws brought in during The Terror. There is one that…umm, makes it an offence to question the actions of a Ministry Official without obtaining the prior permission of their superior. Now it was designed, I would imagine, to give Voldemort free reign, but…I'm going to invoke it, or threaten to at least.'

Both Hermione and Draco stared at him in amazement. Kingsley Shacklebolt was going to use a Law brought in by Voldemort?

'What? Don't look at me like that!' He shrugged and grinned a bit. 'It's only a teensy abuse of power.'

Hermione wasn't too certain. 'We are…still the good guys, aren't we?'

Kingsley laughed at that one. 'Of course we're the good guys, we're in charge! I assume you've read that Muggle book called "Animal Farm"?' She nodded. 'Well so have I. I'm no Napoleon but I am a street fighter, and sometimes we have to play as dirty as our opponents. That's life.'

Hermione didn't look too convinced. She was sure it shouldn't be like this. Was it true that you should never let your morals prevent you from doing what's right? She didn't know anymore.

'Anyway,' Kingsley continued 'The Prophet has told me they don't know where their editor is at the moment. I've told them to make sure he's in his office at eleven o'clock or I'll issue a warrant for his arrest; that shook them up a bit! In the meantime, it might be an idea to get you two out of here until things calm down. Is there somewhere safe for you to go? If not, I'll take you to the Ministry with me.'

'They followed us yesterday' said Draco, 'so they know where we live. I don't know.'

'OK' said Kingsley, 'come back with me. Can we apparate from here?'

'We can't' said Hermione. 'The centre; there are still people who need us. We've got food to organise and…'

'I'll take care of that Hermione. I'm sure your volunteers can cope for a couple of days without you and I'll send some trainees over if not. If you stay here it'll turn into a media free-for-all.'

Hermione nodded; she supposed it made sense. 'Kingsley, I need to get a message to Harry, telling him it isn't true.'

'Harry knows that, too. He's not here because he's seeing his solicitors. The Prophet "mis-quoted" him a bit. It was him who warned me yesterday something might be happening, but we didn't think they'd publish so quickly.'

-o0o-

Kingsley took them both side-along, which meant they were able to apparate directly into his office. Once there he left them for a while to organise a couple of magical law enforcement teams; one to the centre for crowd control, and the other to come with him to The Prophet's offices. He intended to go in heavy handed to put the frighteners onto the editor.

Hermione slumped into one of the chairs. Now the first excitement was over and she had nothing to do, depression was setting in. Draco came and sat on the arm, putting his arm around her shoulder again.

'Why, Draco?'

'People need to hate, Hermione. It's part of what makes us human.'

'That's rubbish.'

'Is it? I don't think so.'

They lapsed into silence; suddenly feeling very tired, and stayed that way until Kingsley came back. He seemed a lot happier.

'Right, we're cooking with _fiendfyre_! The Prophet have "found" their editor. I'm heading over there now and Harry's going to join me, with his legal people. If it goes as I expect it to, we'll get a full retraction and apology on the front page tomorrow. That deals with the centre, and should get you off the hook.'

He spread his hands in a gesture of apology. 'I can't do a lot about the personal stuff; you'll have to sort that out yourselves. If you want to write a denial I'll see what I can do about getting it published but…Shame.'

Hermione shrugged. 'That isn't important, and I suppose they didn't actually tell any lies; just twisted the truth. We are sharing a room.'

'That's what journalists do' Kingsley agreed. 'If they'd written that story in a slightly more controlled way we couldn't have touched them. I was a bit surprised at that but I'm sure you'll survive it. Anyway, I've found somebody to babysit you for a couple of days.'

They looked up at him, and he smiled. 'You're going back to school; Minerva McGonagall's agreed to put you up and give you some breathing space. I'd like to see a reporter trying to hide in Hogwart's bushes!'

Hermione and Draco exchanged looks; it had been known to happen. Still, they stood a better chance there than in London.

Kingsley clapped his hands, obviously pleased with his bright idea. 'You can floo from here.'

'Kingsley, thank you' said Hermione. The drowning feeling she'd had since the story broke was lifting, slightly. 'You don't know how grateful I am. I'm not sure I deserve it.'

Kingsley looked slightly uncomfortable. 'It's fine' he said. 'Like I said, we look after our own. You're important to me…us. Now, go.'


	13. Chapter 13

They stepped out of the fireplace, and into the Headmistress' study.

'Miss Granger! Oh, I am so pleased you are here and safe.' McGonagall came towards them and gave Hermione a warm hug. 'When I read what those dreadful people had written about you…'

'Thank you, I'm so glad to be here.'

'I'm glad I could be of assistance. Hogwarts will always offer help to those who need it. Now, came and sit down and I shall make you some tea.' She turned to Draco, giving him a slight nod. 'Mr Malfoy.'

Draco wondered if he should just floo straight back out of there, but he wasn't sure if there was a destination called "Total Oblivion". He should be used to being treated like this now, but it never got any easier. Anyway, he wasn't the main concern.

McGonagall did notice that Draco stayed very close to Hermione, almost as if he were guarding her. Whilst she sat listlessly in the chair, arms on her knees and staring at the carpet, he was different. He sat slightly facing her, his hand almost within reach – and watching her. He never once took his eyes off Hermione's face.

'Perhaps…' McGonagall thought, as she brought the tea to them and served it.

'So' she said, in her best schoolmistress voice; the one you were trained to respond to, 'the Daily Prophet has decided to pick on you now. Albus got it all the time.'

'I don't know where I went wrong' said Hermione. She sounded as if she'd just failed a homework assessment. 'I…I'm just trying…'

'They have to publish something' said McGonagall, briskly. 'Of course, everybody who knows you realises it is all lies.'

'Well, not all of it, professor. The big things, yes. We're not recruiting an army, obviously, but Abbott told then some truth.'

'So you and Mr Weasley have argued?'

'Yes.' Hermione's eyes filled a little. 'We split up.'

'It may surprise you to know it often happens' said McGonagall gently. 'I've seen it many, many times; people who were close at school, but then they go out into the big wide world and they change. As indeed happened with you and Miss Parkinson, Mr Malfoy.'

Draco looked at her in wonderment. How on Earth did she know that? 'Well, circumstances changed.'

'Indeed. Anyway, once you have finished your tea, I'll show you to your rooms. Please remember you can stay for as long as you wish.'

-o0o-

They had been given guest rooms near the teacher's quarters, on either side of a corridor. McGonagall indicated one room to Draco, and then took Hermione into the other.

'I hope you will be comfortable, my dear. It may be prudent to stay out of sight of the pupils until this is resolved, or they are bound to write to their parents. Is there anything you need?' Hermione shook her head. 'Then why don't you have a lie down for an hour or so. It will do you good.'

Hermione smiled; it was just like being...at home. 'Thank you, Professor.'

'Please, call me Minerva. I'll leave you now.'

McGonagall started back up the corridor, then checked and knocked on Draco's door. He invited her in.

'How are you, Mr Malfoy?'

He shrugged. 'Better than Hermione; I'm a bit tougher I think.'

'So what did happen?'

'She made an enemy. I told her to be careful, but Hermione – you know her - thinks the best of everyone. She's so innocent, it's unbelievable, really.'

'Innocence is meant to be a virtue.'

'But she's like a lamb to the slaughter. Is she alright? I might go and look in on her later.'

'Do you care for her?' McGonagall's question wasn't sharp, but challenging none the less.

Draco had to think about that one. 'I care about her; somebody has to.' He looked at McGonagall. 'She hasn't got anyone, any more, apart from me.' He laughed, a little. 'Sounds strange, doesn't it?'

'Strange things sometimes happen. So you are living together?'

'No. We share a room as a matter of economy. It's not like we're in love or anything. Honestly. Granger? No… I just…look out for her. Or try to, anyway. I've not done a very good job, so far.'

'Very well, Mr Malfoy. Will you both join me for dinner in my room this evening?'

'Yes, we'd be glad to.'

Once McGonagall had left he went to Hermione's room, knocking gently on the door. There was no reply, but he opened it anyway and went in. She was already asleep.

He checked she was sleeping soundly and adjusted the quilt around her, brushing some hair from her face. He wanted to stay, but thought it best if he probably didn't. There was no reason to stay, not really.

-o0o-

They dined with Minerva in her room that evening, in an oasis of calm. During the meal, they just chatted about this and that, and it wasn't until coffee that the real issue came up.

'What I can't understand is why there's still this hatred and mistrust around. Why can't people accept it's over?' Hermione asked.

'I told you' said Draco, 'people need to hate. It's part of us. Don't you agree, Minerva?'

Minerva rested her chin on her fingers whilst she considered her response. 'I think… you have overstated it slightly, Mr Malfoy; but perhaps there is something in what you say. Perhaps people need to feel a sense of _belonging_ to a group, and one way of achieving that is to create "outsiders".'

'Like the House system here' he said.

'No Draco!' Hermione sounded shocked. 'It's not like that at all…is it?' Suddenly she didn't sound quite so sure.

'So you'd have been accepted into Slytherin, would you?'

'Well, no…but that was different…I mean…' She looked to her old Headmistress for support, but found Minerva shaking her head.

'It is something we have discussed' said McGonagall, nodding towards the hat. Both Draco and Hermione blinked. The thought of McGonagall chatting to a hat was a little…surreal. 'We think that the house system did become somewhat corrupted over the years and perhaps it did not help matters. Of course your situation is, to some extent, different to that.

You must understand that many people suffered during the war, and not all of them are as noble as you, Hermione. When you have lost loved ones and houses and possessions, it can be hard to see your enemy forgiven and shown a second chance. And there will always be suspicion, as I am sure you have noticed, Mr Malfoy.'

'Indeed, _Headmistress_.'

McGonagall studied him for a moment – and then blushed. 'Yes, you are correct – _Draco. _I, too, find it hard to forgive what happened. There are children at this school, who are quite innocent of any wrong doing, but when I hear their name…I hope that time will heal the wounds.'

'It must, Minerva' said Hermione warmly. 'If we don't break the cycle with the new generation, then we are doomed.'

It wasn't often Minerva McGonagall felt humbled, but she did now. She felt - knew – she was in the presence of somebody far greater than she could ever be.

Hermione broke the silence, with a rather mundane observation. 'Renee! She'll be expecting us back!'

Draco explained who Renee was, and Minerva said she would arrange for a message to be delivered. Draco pointed out that Renee was a Muggle so it had to be handled carefully. Minerva had to hide a smile when he informed her they were known as "Mr & Mrs Smith".

-o0o-

They went back to their rooms after dinner, and stood in the corridor. It seemed strange, now, to be going to different places.

'Will you be alright on your own?' Draco asked her.

She smiled. 'I'm not frightened of the dark!'

'Alright, but if you need anything you know where I am.'

Hermione sat in her room for a while. Draco had been so good to her, so supportive. Was it just guilt he felt, or could it be something else? He couldn't care for her, not in that way. Could he? Anymore than she cared for him. Could she? They were too different; there was too much history between them. Wasn't there?

She still wanted to do something to thank him, though. When everyone else had turned away, he was there. Slipping quietly from her room, she made her way to the Owlery. She'd had an idea.

-o0o-

She wasn't sure what the time was when she awoke. All she could see was that the sun was well up, so she went and knocked on Draco's door.

'Morning, sleepy head!' he said with a smile. 'You've missed breakfast so I saved you some toast.'

Eating was the last thing she felt like doing. 'Has the paper arrived yet?'

He grinned. 'Have a look.'

"**MR. HARRY POTTER – AN APOLOGY.**

**Due to an administrative error, the Daily Prophet regrets to announce that it severely misrepresented a statement made by Mr. Potter in yesterday's edition. To correct the matter, we now republish his statement in full.**

'I thought your rag had stopped printing rubbish like this years ago. There is absolutely no way this ridiculous fabrication could be true. Hermione Granger was my most steadfast and loyal friend during our attempts to defeat Voldemort. I cannot believe anyone would believe such a fantasy or suspect that she has turned out to be a traitor. I think it's disgusting that you should even attempt to besmirch her name.'

**We apologise most sincerely to Mr. Potter for any distress or embarrassment we may have caused him, and have agreed to make a sizable donation to a number of charities of his choice."**

Below the inevitable stock photo of Harry, and in slightly smaller print, was a further article.

"**THE "DAILY PROPHET" PRIDES ITSELF ON ****answering the questions you want answered****!**

**Yesterday's lead story certainly got some action! The Prophet's Offices were delighted to welcome the Minister for Magic, Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt, shortly after we went to press. After a cordial meeting, our Editor is happy to report that the Ministry have no concerns whatsoever over the Drop-in Centre just off Diagon Alley in London. **

**Miss Hermione Granger (20), the loyal supporter of Harry Potter, is working there on a Ministry secondment, to assist those who MAY have made mistakes in the past to lead a useful and productive life. This essential and noble work is funded by sources well known to, and approved by, the Ministry. **

**Miss Granger is being ably assisted by Mr Draco Malfoy with the full knowledge and permission of the Ministry. We have been asked to make clear that Mr Malfoy has never, at any time, been charged with any offences.**

**The Minister told us that he has never, and will never, question Miss Granger's motives or intentions and expressed his surprise that we should do so.**

**We, however, feel it is our duty to act on concerns raised by the public. It is possible that our lead source Hannah Abbott (20), the publican of a drinking den in London, may have exaggerated matters somewhat.**

**The Daily Prophet admits that, on this occasion, our journalistic standards may have fallen below the high levels we set ourselves, but at least YOUR concerns have been answered. **

**KEEP ON READING YOUR DAILY PROPHET – THE PAPER THAT GETS ACTION."**

Hermione looked at Draco. 'Is that it?'

'I think you'd better take it as a victory.'

'I don't want a victory; I just want to do my job.' She threw the paper across the room. 'Come on, let's go for a walk.'

They set off down the corridor with no particular plans. It wasn't worth heading back to the centre now; they might as well wait until tomorrow. Draco thought it best, anyway; it would allow the dust to settle. Hermione just wanted to keep moving, or she thought she might punch something. She wasn't really paying attention and almost walked into Professor Trelawney.

'Sorry….' She mumbled.

Trelawney peered at Hermione, her eyes huge behind her glasses. 'My Inner Eye tells me you are troubled, my dear.'

'Oh, well done.'

Trelawney ignored her. 'You seek something…but it is not here…'

'No. We'll be going back to London soon.'

'…it is in Hogsmeade. Farewell, my child.' With a wave of her hand, she was gone..**.**

Draco was shaking his head. 'Did that make any sense to you?'

'Of course not; I've always said she's a fraud. I think she just puts random words together to make up sentences. What could I be "seeking" in Hogsmeade?'

They walked out into the grounds and down towards the lake. Hermione had always come here when she was troubled. Occasionally they saw pupils heading between classes. She knew some of the older Gryffindors, and nodded to them. They looked from her to Malfoy, and carried on walking.

After wandering around aimlessly for a while, they wondered how to spend the rest of the time before dinner.

'Let's go into Hogmeade' said Hermione, suddenly.

'What, make a start on your quest?' said Draco with a laugh.

She gave his arm a slap, and then smiled. 'I just fancy a walk, and I haven't been there for ages.'

Hogsmeade hadn't changed much except that the new Weasley's Wizard Wheezes shop was open, but they didn't go in. By now the day was drawing to a close, so they decided to have a quick drink before heading back to the school. Draco suggested the Three Broomsticks.

'No, we'll go the Hog's Head. I've not seen Aberforth since…well, a long time.'

Aberforth gave his usual cheery greeting. 'Oh, it's you. In trouble again, I see. You only come in here when you're hiding from someone.' Then he smiled and shook their hands. 'Don't let the bastards grind you down, girl. What are you having? It's my treat.'

-o0o-

They dined in the Great Hall that evening, at the Teacher's Table, sat between Minerva and Flitwick. Minerva slipped Hermione a letter that had arrived by owl earlier. She read it and gave a satisfied smile before putting it into her robe pocket.

It seemed strange to view at the Hall from this aspect, with the House tables ranged before them. They could clearly see that the Slytherin table was only half full. Flitwick noticed them looking.

'Yes, very sad. So many children have not returned. We've tried to trace them, and assure them their places are still available, but…'

'It's a potential lost generation' said Hermione. 'Perhaps we can do something through the centre to encourage people back. Would they be able to repeat missed years, or could you do short courses do you think?'

'I'm sure anything is possible. If they have no qualifications, then what? It would be too easy for them to slip into a life of crime. We would appreciate anything you could do to contact them. They are not to blame for their parent's actions.'

After dinner, Draco and Hermione were invited to the Staff Common Room for coffee and brandy. Minerva asked them if they were returning to London tomorrow, and offered to let them floo from her office.

'Thank you, but we have to go somewhere else first, so we'll apparate.' Draco raised his eyebrows, but Hermione just smiled at him.

'Very well' said Minerva, 'but you'll have to leave the school ground for that. It's not….'

'…possible to apparate or disapparate within them' Hermione finished for her. 'I know, it says so in _Hogwarts: a History_.'

'Does it really?' said Minerva, looking surprised. 'You mean, you actually read it? Gracious me!'

Hermione hadn't been so disappointed since she was eight, and had learned there was no such thing as Father Christmas.


	14. Chapter 14

Having said their goodbyes to McGonagall after breakfast they walked down to the gates. Draco wanted to know where they were going but Hermione just took his arm and said 'You'll see.'

She apparated them to a small churchyard deep in the Gloucestershire countryside.

'I got Kingsley to find out where your parents are buried'. She nodded towards the graves and opened the gates.

Draco followed her silently. He thought he recognised the surroundings, and decided they weren't too far from Malfoy Manor. The graveyard was old and overgrown**.** It had an air of desolation and abandonment about it. Hermione led him to a far corner, where weeds and nettles grew high. It was a place where nobody would ever come, unless they had to.

So this was it, this was where his parents had finished their days. There was no great mausoleum, not even a headstone. Just a small concrete slab bearing a brass plaque with their names on.

Draco stared at it. 'It seems so…inadequate.'

'I can do something different if you want' she said gently, and he nodded.

'I don't want to…glorify them' he struggled to express his feelings, 'but…they were two…people.'

Hermione nodded and took out her wand to transfigure the slab into a plain granite headstone. Then she carved the words:

_Here lay_

_LUCIUS MALFOY_

_And his wife_

_NARCISSA_

_Parents of Draco._

_May they rest now at peace._

Draco spent a long time just looking. 'They were all I had' he said eventually. 'Nothing more, but they left me, didn't they? They didn't even ask if I wanted to go with them.'

'Would you have done?'

He shook his head. 'I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. It's all such a mess; such a waste. All of it, everything they wanted and did. It was all wrong. I HATE THEM!'

He fell to his knees, pounding at the icy ground with his fists until they bled.

'WHY? Why did you do it? Why were you so stupid? _WHY?_'

Hermione knelt beside him, putting her arm around his shoulder and pulling him into a hug. She felt him resist, trying to pull away, but she gripped him tighter.

'It's OK to cry, Draco. You're allowed to cry, now.'

And he did. For the first time in his life he cried. Great racking sobs tore at this body as she rocked him gently and stroked his hair.

He thought he would never stop crying, he didn't want to. He poured twenty years of waste into his tears. He cried for his parents, for their victims and for himself.

He cried for the wreck he had become, for the suffering he had caused. But mostly, he cried for his cowardice.

He had not accepted Voldemort, but had done nothing to stop him. He had not had the chance to fight and die for his beliefs, because he had none. He had spent the battle trying to stay alive, not fighting.

'I'm nothing. I've never done anything of value. My past, my life, it's nothing but a worthless mistake.'

'Shh, shh, Draco. The past is over. The rest of your life is a blank page. It's what you do from now on that counts.'

'I have nobody, I have nothing.'

'You have me.'

She continued to rock him in her arms, crooning calming noises and pressing her cheek to his hair.

Slowly his crying stopped as he exhausted himself and his emotions. He held on to her as a drowning man clutches at a piece of wood; she was all that was keeping him alive.

'I have you?'

'You have me.'

-o0o-

When Draco was composed enough, they travelled back to London, planning on getting to the centre in time to help serve the meal. There were no great cheers, or standing ovations, but as people took their trays they gave a small smile or a murmured greeting. A small group did come up to them, and with much nudging and muttering of 'No, you' and 'You say it' and 'Go on!' one of the men eventually said 'We're glad to see you back. Thank you for helping us'. Hermione smiled and said 'It's what we're here for' and the men went away, the speaker still blushing.

It did feel good to be back doing something, little though it was. The queues didn't seem to be any shorter, or the clients any fitter, but there were a couple of new jobs on the Vacancies board, so that was something.

They stayed on for another couple of hours, dealing with a few important things and generally being updated on what had happened in their absence. There had been no major incidents over the original article; the Magic Law Enforcement Officers had seen to that, but there was a rumour going round that a couple of journalists had been "encouraged" to the leave the area later on in the day. One had been encouraged so enthusiastically he'd ended up in St Mungo's, but wasn't seriously hurt.

Quite a few Howlers had arrived, of course, but the staff had dealt with them.

Since the retraction had been published the messages had changed, with people writing in to say they'd never believed it anyway, and it was typical of the sort of rubbish The Prophet always published. Some had even sent small donations. Guilty consciences could be useful on occasions.

-o0o-

They headed back to their lodging to be greeted by Renee, who made them a cup of tea. It felt good to be back.

'Thank you for the note' she said. 'Somebody must have dropped it through the letter box. So, how was your training course?'

'Oh, you know…fine!' said Hermione, hoping Renee didn't want any more details. 'By the way, we'll be leaving on Saturday, I hope you don't mind.'

'Of course not! Have you got things sorted out with your parents?' Renee asked kindly.

'Not as such, no. We needed to find somewhere more permanent.'

'I understand, love. Don't give up on them though, will you?' Hermione said she wouldn't, and invited Renee to have dinner with them on Friday.

'I'd love to, but Friday's my Bingo night and I go with a group. You save your money; you'll need it.'

-o0o-

Draco and Hermione found themselves strangely tongue-tied when they got back to their room. During the day they had been able to put what had happened in the graveyard to one side, but now…

Hermione bustled around, sorting out clothes and generally tidying up things that didn't need tidying, all the while keeping up a febrile chatter. Draco sat on the bed, not really looking at her, and agreeing with everything.

There is only so much time you can spend pretending to be busy in one room, so eventually they had to face each other.

They did so in silence. It was the sort of silence that involves sitting on your hands and staring anywhere where the other person isn't. That silence where you have an overwhelming desire just to give a little cough, but daren't in case the other person thinks you want to say something. A silence that desperately needed noise.

It should have been a great flowing speech, a pinnacle of oratory. Instead, Draco said 'So.'

Hermione replied 'Well.'

'Umm'

'Yeah'

Both of them realised that the silence was probably better than this, so they stopped for a while.

Draco tried again. 'Things have changed, a bit. Haven't they?'

'I suppose. Maybe.'

'So, what happens next?'

'I'm not sure. You?'

'Why…did you do that?'

They finally made eye contact. 'You told me once that you didn't know what had happened to your parents. I thought it might …I wanted to do something for you, after you'd looked after me.' A horrible thought crossed her mind. 'Was I wrong? Oh, Draco…I'm so sorry, I thought it would help you, to give you some …I'm sor…'

He crossed to her bed and sat beside her, putting his arm around her shoulder. 'No, I'm not upset at what you did. I wanted to know where they were, what had happened. I'm just not used to people doing things for me, not like that…caring about me.'

'You don't hate them, do you?'

He took his hand from her shoulder and leaned forward, elbows on his knees and resting his head in his hands.

'It's hard. They are my parents, but they did so much that was wrong.'

She put her arm around him. 'They made choices. They did what they - I don't know - thought was right, what they should do, what they'd been brought up to believe.'

'Are you…you're not trying to justify what they did, are you?'

'Of course not. How can something like that ever be right? Oppressing others, thinking that you have the right to rule because of whom you are or what you are – it can never be right. But it's always happened and every time it does we say "Never again". Maybe one day we'll listen to ourselves.'

'And us? You said that I had you. What did…I mean, does…are we…what?'

'I care about you, Draco. I've seen how damaged you've been, and I've seen that wasn't the real you. You're kind and considerate, and you care about people. You care about me, and look out for me.'

'I've caused you all sorts of problems though.'

'No. You haven't. It's the others, the ones who can't see beyond the past.'

'So, I care about you, and you care about me.'

'Yes.'

'That's good, isn't it?'

'Yes.'

The silence pressed down on them again and they knew the moment was lost.

'I suppose we'd better get some sleep.'

'Yes.'

They didn't. Both lay there all night, trying not to disturb the other. Neither dared to say what they really wanted to say, and both knew it and hated themselves for it.

-o0o-

They spent Thursday and Friday being very polite to each other, and discussing topics in a very formal way. Draco even reverted to calling her Granger. That time was probably worse for him than her, as he felt that he should be instigating any conversation about their future.

But, he was still racked by doubts. What did he want her to be? In the graveyard, he knew they'd crossed some kind of invisible line. They were certainly far more than colleagues now, but were they "just" friends?

His problem was that he didn't know. How did friends act? Did they hug each other and cry a lot? He thought perhaps not. Friends, from what he had seen, tended to have a rather better time together. They talked and joked and didn't sit together in silence. Friends went out and had fun. Then they went back to separate rooms, if they were male and female.

Couples went to the same room. So, were they a couple? He thought probably not. There was a lot more groping and fumbling amongst couples. He and Parkinson had done quite a lot of that at various stages, but it wasn't the same with Hermione.

Could it, possibly, be…love? The one thing he'd tried to avoid, the very thing he knew must not happen between them. Now he was in a quandary, because he simply didn't know what "love" was. It was an emotion he'd never encountered before, not being a part of his environment.

Had his parents loved each other? They were married, but he thought that wasn't any indication. His mother had been a Black; one of the most important Wizarding families in the country, and impeccably pureblood. She was a suitable match for a Malfoy.

They'd had him, so there must have been – at some stage – a…not something he wanted to consider in relation to his parents. They'd had a child, leave it at that.

How, he wondered, do you know if you are in love with somebody? He realised he didn't have a clue. It had to be more than a physical thing, he supposed. He knew there were woman who would be physical with anybody who had the money, but that wasn't love.

So what was it?

The answer caught him like a slap round the face. Love was when you cared for somebody so much that you would do anything for them. Being in love meant that you wanted to be with that person more than anything else.

You would do things for them that you thought would help them, like bringing closure to their parent's death.

You would comfort them when they were unhappy.

You would watch over them when they were hurting.

You would miss them when they weren't there.

He was in love with Hermione Granger, and she was perhaps in love with him. And on Saturday – tomorrow – they were moving into a flat together.

'Oh Merlin!'


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione was up very early on Saturday morning, being too excited to sleep. At 7:20 precisely she started bustling round the room, slowly increasing the noise levels until Draco opened his eyes.

'Oh, you're awake! We might as well go down for breakfast, then.'

They ate breakfast and then went back to the room to start packing. It was soon all done, and they looked around a little sadly. Yes, it was a bit shabby, and far too small, but it had offered them shelter and they would always think of it fondly.

Renee was waiting for them in the hallway when they came down. She gave Hermione a hug, and shook hands with Draco.

'Well, good luck you two. Give your parents a bit of time, and maybe they'll come round. Just keep in touch with them until they're ready.'

'We will' said Hermione. She gave Renee a box of chocolates as a "Thank you", and then they left.

An hour later they were stood in their flat. It looked very empty.

'I'll go over to mum and dad's, I think' said Hermione, 'and get my stuff.'

'Do you want me to come with you?'

'No, I can manage. Do you think you can get some shopping done?'

Draco nodded. 'I can shop. You mean food, don't you? Yes, I can do that.' He sounded more confident than he felt.

-o0o-

Hermione's mother opened the door to her. 'Dad's not in; he's got a game of golf today.'

Hermione nodded. 'I'll just get my things and go.'

'You'll need more than one trip. Don't you have a van?'

Hermione held up a small beaded bag. 'I think I can get everything in here; I've done it before.' She headed up to her bedroom and started putting Undetectable Extension Charms on her possessions. Her mother stood in the doorway, watching.

'Do you have any furniture?'

'Umm…not as such; we'll have to get some.'

'We've found you a three piece suite. It isn't new, but it'll do. We've put it in the garage. There are some old beds in the attic, if you want them. They're singles.'

Hermione turned to her mum, and gave her a hug. 'Thank you. That's fine; we've got two bedrooms.'

'Hermione, what's going on with this boy? Are you with him?'

'No. We're…I'm not sure, but I'm not with him. We're just friends.'

'You're giving up a lot for just a friend.'

'I'm not, mum. That's what's so silly about all of this. Kingsley's already told me he's proud of what I'm doing, and he'll remember it when I go back to the Ministry. I think I'm doing the right thing. I just wish you'd see it.'

'So you are going back?'

Hermione didn't answer, but said 'Where are these beds, then?'

She gave her mum another hug before she left and gave her the new address, and promised to stay in touch. No, they didn't have a phone and probably wouldn't get one, but Hermione would call from a phone box. Yes, she might get a mobile, it depended on how much they cost.

-o0o-

Draco had lain the shopping out on the kitchen worktop for her inspection. He wasn't quite sure what she'd say. Hermione didn't say anything for a while; she was too busy trying to stop herself laughing.

He'd bought bread and butter and some cheese. There was milk, too, but no tea, coffee or sugar. Rather bizarrely, he'd also bought a packet of flour and a tin of olives.

'So, what are planning on cooking with this then?' she said, giving way to a fit of giggles.

He looked a trifle embarrassed, but tried to smile. 'I didn't really know what to get. Sorry.'

'Come on; let's see if we can do any better together.'

It wasn't as simple as Hermione thought. She started by getting some fruit and vegetables, but that was about it.

'What can you cook?' Draco asked her.

'Spaghetti Bolognaise' she said.

'Is that it? Well, it's one more thing than me, I suppose. I've never had to do anything domestic.'

'I've never really had to do anything either; mum always cooked. I think I could probably manage a chicken.' They went over to choose one.

'It's a bit big for two of us, isn't it?' Draco asked.

'Well, we'll have it roasted, and then you can do things with the leftovers, so it'll last for more than one meal. You can make soup.'

'How?'

'I don't know. Mum sort of cooks the bones, and then puts…things in it. It tastes quite nice.' She put the chicken back on the shelf with a sigh. 'I don't even know how to roast it. I'm useless.'

A middle-aged woman next to them looked over and smiled. 'First shop?' Hermione nodded. 'I was just the same as you, love.' She picked the chicken up and showed Hermione the cooking instructions on the label, talking it through with her. 'It's quite easy; just make sure it's properly cooked through. Have a look around the shop; they sometimes do free recipe cards which are quite good.'

-o0o-

They went back to the flat and had Spaghetti Bolognaise for dinner, with a bottle of cheap wine they'd decided to buy to celebrate. Draco thought the food tasted quite nice and the wine was…drinkable–ish.

They finished off with some fruit for dessert, and then the silence descended again. They were fine when they were busy, but as soon as they weren't, it was just awful.

Draco decided he had to say something. He'd been building up for this all day. His past had been blighted by his cowardice, his never having the guts to do the right thing. That had to change.

'Hermione…I…'

'Yes?'

He stood up. 'I'll clear the table.'

She put her hand on his, stopping him.

'That wasn't what you were going to say, was it?'

'No.'

'So, what is it then?' She poured them both another glass of wine, having a feeling they would need it.

Draco leant his elbows on the table and pressed his finger tips to his forehead. 'I was thinking, the other night. About us, well me and you. I was trying to work out what we are, now.'

Hermione was looking at a small crumb on the table. It seemed to fascinate her. 'Did you come to a conclusion?'

'Well, that's the thing; I think I might have.'

'And?'

'Hermione, I think…I may, possibly…be sort of…thinking of you as more than a friend.'

'Oh.' She reached out a finger and put it over the crumb.

'Yes. Look, I'm sorry. I'll try and stay out of your way as much as possible, of course, and…well, I think we should both try looking for somebody else to share this place. Once we've found them, I'll move out. Unless you want me to go now?'

'There is…another alternative.'

'What?'

'Well, maybe I'm sort of…perhaps…becoming fond of you, too.'

'Fond?'

'Fond, as in perhaps a little bit in love with you.'

'Oh. That's good. Isn't it?'

'I think so.'

They looked at each other, and gave a shy smile. Then Draco slowly reached his hand out and put it over hers.

He gave a slightly nervous laugh. 'What happens now?'

'I suppose we could go and sit down, and maybe talk?'

They moved over to the sofa, and sat side by side, holding their wine glasses.

'Do you know how to tell if you love somebody?' Draco asked.

'Well, how did you feel about Parkinson?' She winced. She wasn't sure if she should have said that.

Draco thought for a moment. 'That was nothing to do with love; I was going to marry her.'

Hermione looked at him with wide eyed astonishment. 'But, you did love her?'

'She was suitable. Umm…respectable family, maybe not exactly top drawer, but there were so few around. It was probably her or one of the Greengrasses.'

'You're telling me you'd only marry somebody "suitable" and feelings didn't come in to it? So your wife could have been anybody?'

He thought for a moment. 'I suppose so. The main reason for getting married was to produce an heir or two to secure the line. I mean, don't get me wrong, there was an element of choice. I'd have never married Millicent Bulstrode for example, no matter how good her family was. I do have a quality threshold.'

Hermione spun round in her seat, giggling at him. 'A what?! You chauvinist!' She gave his arm a little slap. It lightened the mood somewhat.

'Oh, come on, admit it. She looked like she was part troll!' He was laughing a bit as well.

Hermione tried to give him a hard stare, but failed. 'So, Mr Wonderful, do I pass your "quality threshold"?'

He played with the arm of the sofa for a moment, and then looked at her. 'Yes.'

She leaned back against the cushions. 'Well, that's something I suppose. Why do I?'

Even Draco, with his almost zero experience, saw the huge "WARNING" sign flashing in front of him.

'Well...you're attractive…'

'Am I?'

'Yes' He hurried on. 'But it's more than that. You're kind and caring, but you're so...innocent. You get hurt too easily, and I want to look after you. Then, when you get upset and I give you a hug and you feel better, well, it makes me feel good too. I just feel different since I've got to know you. It's like I have a reason to be here now.'

She leant into his shoulder. 'I don't have to be upset to have a hug, you know.'

He slipped an arm around her shoulder. 'I think you'll be upset enough times being with me, you know.' He let out a huge sigh. 'I still think I'm going to cause you more trouble than I'm worth and, lets be honest, I'm not worth much.'

She rounded on him again. 'Stop that. All that's happened, you've been there for me. You're the only one who's stood by me. You're so different, Draco. I'll be honest, I used to hate you so much, but you've changed.'

'I don't think I've changed; I've just had all the crap kicked out of me. You've shown me a world I didn't know existed. That night with your friends, they didn't once ask who my parents were or how much I was worth. They just took me a face value. I couldn't understand it at first, then I realised they didn't care about hierarchy or rank; they just wanted to enjoy themselves.'

'That's what most people do. You get judged by who you are and what you do, not what you are.'

He pulled her back against his shoulder, and stroked her hair. That felt nice and, sort of, natural. 'But I can't offer you anything; no big house, no vault full of gold.'

'That's _normal_, Draco. When my parents got married, they started off in a place similar to this. Then they got bits and pieces and eventually bought a house. That's what most people do. Anyway, that's all in the future.' She giggled. 'You've not even asked me if I want to go out with you yet.'

'You mean, be my…girlfriend.'

'Yes!'

Draco was stuck, again. How did you ask a girl out? Something dim and distant came into his memory. He released himself from her and went down on one knee.

'Hermione, will you go out with me?'

The look on his face was so sincere that she really thought she shouldn't laugh, but she couldn't help herself. She collapsed onto the sofa, put her hands over her face and laughed until she honestly thought she was going to pass out. Every time she tried to pull herself together she looked at him and collapsed again.

She _had_ to pull herself together; she could see the confusion on his face. She didn't want him to think she was laughing _at_ him.

'Oh Draco!' She fell over again. 'Oh dear, I'm so sorry!' There was another fit of giggles. 'That was so sweet!' She took a few deep breaths and wiped her eyes. 'Yes, alright!' She continued to titter whilst she fished out her handkerchief and blew her nose.

Draco didn't know what he'd done wrong, but she seemed happy enough.

-o0o-

They just sat there for the rest of the evening, finishing off the wine and chatting about nothing in particular. There were a few silences, but they were pleasant silences now.

The only slightly uncomfortable moment came when Hermione decided she was tired. She had to think long and hard about how to say so, without giving him the wrong idea. On the other hand, she didn't want to make it too obvious she wasn't saying what she thought he might think she…oh, it was all too difficult.

'I'm getting tired; I'll turn in and see you in the morning.'

'Yes, I'll probably join…go to my room as well.'

They stood and walked over to the bedroom doors, pausing outside. Now it was just a little awkward. Eventually she put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a peck on the cheek.

'Goodnight, Draco.'

'Goodnight, Hermione.'

They both slept very well indeed.


	16. Chapter 16

They had a wonderful day on Sunday. After breakfast, they decided they should really go out and explore the area and soon found a park. As they walked through the gates Hermione told Draco it might be an idea to hold hands, just in case the Wrackspurts attacked them and they got lost. Draco gave her a strange look, and she started giggling.

They walked along the paths, hand in hand, looking at the trees now bare of leaves, their branches stark against the rather miserable grey sky. Hermione saw a squirrel, and it seemed the most important thing in the world to point it out to Draco. They spent a few minutes watching it scurry through the branches until it disappeared from view. That was definitely worth a little kiss.

It was a strange and novel experience for them both to actually go out "on a date". Hermione had never been Ron's girlfriend, as such. They'd gone from being friends to a couple in the clatter of a Basilik fang and, having been friends for so long, there was very little they didn't know about each other so discussions had been fairly limited.

Draco, of course, hadn't spoken to Pansy much; there wasn't any point. She was his trophy to be displayed and she had revelled in being the future Mrs Malfoy.

Hermione and Draco knew nothing about each other, not as such. So they talked, and talked.

Hermione told him all about her childhood, before she went to Hogwarts. It was a whole new experience for him, and lots of things needed to be explained. For example, he couldn't understand the concept of "going to the seaside" for a holiday.

'So, you leave your house, and go to a room – like the guest house we were in?'

'Well, not quite, it might be a hotel or a villa – which is like a whole house you rent for two weeks.'

'Right. But you leave your house behind? So you can sit on some sand getting sunburnt?'

'Yeah, sort of.'

'Why?'

'Because its fun! You can play in the sea, and build sandcastles…'

'What?'

'Sandcastles. You build things out of sand.'

'You go away to do manual work? Why not employ somebody?'

'Because! Anyway, they're only little castles. Then, once you've built them you can jump on them!'

'Why? No, don't tell me; it's fun.'

'It is! And you have ice creams and donkey rides, and sometimes there's a show.' She sighed. 'So, you never went on holiday?'

'No. We'd visit, of course.'

'Well, that must have been fun.'

'Not really. Father would normally be talking business and mother and the hostess would be trying to out do each other on who had the most money. I sort of kept out of the way.'

'What about parties?'

'There were balls, of course, but I was too young to go.'

'I meant birthday parties.'

'Oh, dinner parties?'

'No! For you, when lots of children come round and you play games…and…jelly…You didn't have any friends, did you?'

Draco shrugged and gave her a little smile. He was most surprised when she threw her arms around him and gave him an enormous hug.

'You must have been so lonely.'

'I never thought about it. I suppose I assumed everyone was like that. I had Crabbe and Goyle to order around; it was practise for when I inherited the estate.'

'That's so sad.' Hermione spotted a children's playground. 'Do you know how to swing?' He looked blank, so she grabbed his hand and dragged him over to them.

'Right, sit on the swing. Now…swing!' He sat there looking at her as if she'd gone quite mad.

She took the swing next to him and showed him to make himself go higher by leaning back and pushing his legs out. He got the hand of it after a while, and called across to her. 'So, what else does it do?'

She laughed back at him 'This is it! That's the whole idea.'

'Is this fun, too?'

'Yes!'

'Why?'

-o0o-

They made their way back to the flat as dusk was falling, pleasantly tired and rather windswept and flopped onto the sofa with a cup of tea.

'Did you enjoy that, Draco?' She peered intensely into his eyes, smiling. 'Was it…_fun_?'

He smiled back at her. 'Yes, it was nice, just being alone with you.' He took her hand and began running his fingers along hers. 'I never thought we'd ever have a day like that, together. Not you and me.'

'Same here. It just goes to show what can happen when you take time to get to know people. Anyway, I think we should get some dinner cooked.'

'Are you using your wand?'

'No, I want to do it properly, like mum does.'

They went into their little kitchen area, and got the chicken out of the fridge. 'I suppose we take all the plastic off, don't we?' It seemed a good idea, so they did. Then they found a roasting dish to put it in. Hermione started to remember things her mum did, like putting a bit of butter on top, and then she turned the oven on and put the chicken in.

They peeled some potatoes and vegetables and put them on to boil. Of course they'd started them much too early so after half an hour, when everything had turned into a pulpy mess, they tried again. They decided the first lot could be used in a soup.

It was only when the chicken came out of the oven that Hermione realised she hadn't done any gravy. It wouldn't have made much difference, as she didn't know how to make it anyway, so in consequence the meal was rather dry. The chicken was a bit overcooked, as well, because she'd forgotten to turn the heat down.

Still, it was their first meal as boyfriend and girlfriend, and Hermione had cooked for him, so Draco said it was delicious.

-o0o-

They were up early on Monday morning, strangely excited at the prospect of going to work. In reality, it was the prospect of _getting ready_ for work they were looking forward to; the little kiss good morning whilst the water was boiling for tea, putting the bowls and cereal and milk on the table, sitting down and eating together in their own place.

It did get slightly uncoordinated after that, though. Both needed a shower and Draco had to have a shave, of course. There was a bit of hanging around waiting during that part, and the rapid averting of eyes as they made a dash from bathroom to bedroom in just a dressing gown (her) or towel (him). It took them a few days to get it organised; him starting on the sandwiches whilst she showered and dressed, her finishing off when it was his turn.

They gave each other a kiss before leaving the flat, and then went down to the secluded area they'd found by the dustbin store to apparate from. Once they got to Diagon Alley they walked to the centre. At the doors she turned to him.

'Good morning, Mr Malfoy. How was your weekend?'

'Very pleasant, Miss Granger. Yours?'

They went in being very professional and courteous to each other, which fooled nobody. As with any "office romance" the harder they tried to hide it the more obvious it was. Most of the volunteers had guessed what had happened by the first tea break, and took great delight in discussing it in detail.

The big event of the day was the start of the "Muggle Awareness" classes. These had been advertised at the centre the previous week. Hermione had envisaged them as a series of "workshops", with maybe a dozen or so people attending. She hadn't allowed for the cold weather though, and over fifty turned up for the first one. If nothing else, it was a chance to get out of the cold.

The course itself had not been universally popular amongst the clients. A few die-hards had considered it a step too far, and had muttered that it was a conspiracy to get them out of the magical world for once and all. There was even a rumour going round that, in exchange for this new identity, they would be required to give up their wands.

Hermione crushed that one right at the start, telling everyone that there were no preconditions and this was simply giving them another option – if they chose to take it. The course would cover various aspect of Muggle culture, whether they want to try living there, or were just interested.

Because of the numbers involved, the workshops actually turned into lectures on a variety of subjects. She talked about money and the banking system, showing cheques, cards and cash. The wizards and witches all struggled with the concept of 100 pence to One Pound. It seemed rather complicated compared to what they were used to.

Electricity was another thing they just couldn't comprehend. Of course Hermione was handicapped on that one by not being able to show them anything, as the centre wasn't connected to the grid. Televisions, cookers, kettles and the myriad other thing Muggles used just had to be described. Computers were completely new to most people. Hermione tried to describe a keyboard to them, but they just goggled at her. As for e-mail…she gave up on that one.

Popular culture proved rather more accessible to them. She'd been in contact with Dean Thomas and, despite his initial misgivings he came in to talk about football. Draco sat in on that one, remembering his bemusement when Mike had started talking to him about it.

Dean ran through the basics of the game; the objective, the number of players on each team, and their position. Then he started talking about the different teams and the leagues and the fans, and how important the sense of belonging to a club by supporting it was. This part turned into a paean in praise of West Ham United, though.

Dean had brought in some Muggle newspapers, and showed them how each match was – almost – religiously reported by the press, and how the top players (and their wives) were celebrities in their own right.

Hermione thought the newspapers were an excellent idea, so started buying a selection each day. That gave her a lead into politics and current affairs, too.

-o0o-

Later that week, Hermione and Draco were sat in their office when there was another knock on the door.

'You'd better get it this time' said Draco, 'just in case.'

It wasn't Ron, though; it was Harry. Hermione gave a little screech, and threw her arms around him.

'Oh Harry! I haven't seen you for so long, and I've really missed you. Come in! Come in!'

He did so, but checked when he saw Draco sat at the desk. He nodded, curtly. 'Malfoy.'

Draco stared back at him. 'Potter.'

Hermione looked from one to the other. 'Pack it in, you two; you aren't fifteen any more! Harry, this is **Draco**. Draco, this is **Harry**.'

The two sort of muttered something under their breaths and then Draco returned to his work, which involved turning his back on Harry. Hermione just sighed and offered Harry a seat. She couldn't help but smile when she looked at him, though.

'So, how have you been? Thank you for helping out with The Prophet.'

'Not a problem; I've been wanting a run-in with them for a while. A couple of good things came out of it though; they don't publish anything about me until I've seen it in future, and they've agreed to stop calling me stupid names. From now on it's only a combination of "Harry" and "Potter"! Actually, that's the reason I'm here.'

He dug into his robe pocket and pulled out a piece of paper which he handed to Hermione. She read it and her eyes and mouth opened wide.

'Draco! Oh, look!'

He read it and a smile spread across his face. In his hand, he was holding a cheque from The Prophet for 10,000 Galleons. He looked at Harry in disbelief.

Harry shrugged. 'They did say they'd make some contributions. I thought you should get the majority, but I've given some to other people too.'

'This is very…generous' said Draco, a little uncertainly. This much money would make an enormous difference to their work, but he was still a bit uncomfortable taking money from this man, of all people.

'Generous?' said Hermione. 'It's fantastic! You know what this means, don't you Draco? We can start putting on more food! We can afford two meals a day now.' She had tears in her eyes. Now they could start making a real difference. She threw her arms around Draco and gave him a hug, then realised what she'd done – and whom she'd done it in front of. She sat down again a little self-consciously and looked at Harry. He didn't seem very comfortable.

'I…um...I'd better…I'll see myself…'

'Harry?' She was looking so hopeful, and yet afraid. Would he turn his back on her too?

'So, it's true then? You two are…?'

'Yes.'

'Well...that's…that's good. I hope…you'll…I have to go. I'll be seeing you.'

He stood and gave her a hug. She clung to him fiercely.

'Harry? Please?'

'I'll try. I promise I'll try' he whispered.

Hermione shut the door after Harry had gone, and turned to Draco.

'It was nice to see him again, wasn't it?' she said with a pathetic attempt at being cheerful, though tears glazed her eyes.

Draco slumped forward, putting his head in his hands. 'I can't do this to you, Hermione, I just can't.'

She could tell from his voice he was crying, and put a hand on his shoulder. 'It's OK, it's OK. Draco, I love you, and that's what matters.'

He put his hand on hers. 'I love you, Hermione. I've never been so happy in my whole life, and that's why I can't do this to you anymore. I love you too much.'

He grabbed his cloak from the door and ran out of the building.


	17. Chapter 17

It took Hermione a few seconds to react to what he'd done. Just a few seconds, but it was enough. By the time she got outside he was nowhere to be seen. She ran into Diagon Alley; left or right? More indecision, a few more seconds wasted. She spent the next hour searching for him, peering through shop windows, looking into passageways, checking the cafes, even heading towards Knockturn Alley.

It had become even more run down since the end of the war; shop windows were boarded up and there were rumours the ministry were going to redevelop it. Groups huddled in doorways watching her as she passed. Strangely, she didn't feel scared of them. There were enough she recognised from the centre, and she knew they wouldn't hurt her. Some even nodded in recognition. She approached those who did.

'Have you seen Draco Malfoy recently? Within the last few minutes?' The answer was always a shake of the head.

She stood, lost and helpless. Where had he gone? Slowly she made her way back to the centre, a faint hope in her heart that he just needed to calm down and had already returned. He hadn't, of course, and she had work to do. It felt like the day lasted for ever, and the hands on the clock never seemed to get any closer to finishing time.

She arrived back at the flat and ran up the stairs, throwing the door open.

'Draco?'

There was no reply. She checked in his room; all his clothes were still there, he hadn't been back. She threw herself onto the sofa, and prepared to wait for him to come home.

Eventually, the cold started creeping into her and she climbed from the sofa to put the lights and fire on. It was almost eight o'clock. Where was he? She was hungry, but couldn't bring herself to cook just for one, so made some toast. When he came in she'd make them both something to eat – after she'd finished shouting at him.

By ten o'clock, she just wanted him back. She wouldn't shout, now; she'd be too pleased to see him. Every sound, every footfall on the pavement outside had her rushing to the window. Nothing; not him.

By midnight her eyes were drooping and her head starting to nod. He wasn't coming back, not tonight anyway, and so she went to bed.

Where was he? Was he safe? Where was he? Why hadn't he contacted her? Where was he?

She awoke in the cold grey light of dawn. Her first thought was of Draco and she ran to his room. It was still empty.

The flat was cold and desolate. She turned the fire on and made herself some tea, sitting with her legs tucked underneath her and clutching the cup.

Where was he?

She shook her head, angrily. This was no good; she needed to think. Where would he go? Where **could** he go?

The centre? No.

St Mungo's? Her heart raced at the thought of him being hurt, but they would have told her.

Hogwarts? He – somebody – would have owled.

A friend's? He didn't have any. He had no-one apart from her. No-one at all, they were all…gone. She jumped up and grabbed her cloak and wand. She knew where he was.

-o0o-

He was laid on the ground, very still. His cloak had been cast to one side – deliberately. His head was to the front and his arm curved around the back, hugging his parent's gravestone; the one she had made for them.

At first she thought he was already dead but then she saw the slightest movement in his chest.

'Draco! Wake up, please wake up!' There was no response.

He was unconscious, and she knew he had slipped into hypothermia. This was how he had chosen to die, quietly and without pain and with his parents.

NO! She couldn't allow this, not now. She couldn't allow him to leave her.

She doubted she could apparate him safely back to the flat in this condition, but she had to get him into shelter. Throwing his cloak over him she pulled out her wand, using _Wingardium_ to levitate him. The small deserted church at the entrance to the graveyard was locked, but there was a porch or alcove near the door and she gently lowered him down there, casting several small blue flames to provide heat.

She lay next to him on the stone floor, wrapping him with her cloak and exhaling across his face and mouth to warm the frigid air slightly for him, using her body heat to start slowly warming him. It took almost an hour before he started shivering; that was a good sign because it meant he was getting warmer and his bodily functions were starting to return.

It was another hour before he stirred, and turned to her. 'Hermione?' His voice was very weak.

'Oh Draco, Draco! I was so scared; I didn't know where you were and when I found you I thought…I thought….'

'I'm sorry. It was for the best.'

'Shh, shh. Don't try to talk. Let's get you home.'

She apparated him back to the flat. He was still so feeble and disorientated she had to help him up the stairs and into his bed. She climbed in next to him, wrapping her body around his. He soon fell asleep, and she joined him.

-o0o-

'How did you get down there?'

'I caught a Muggle train last night then walked the last bit. That probably saved me; if I'd got there any earlier you would have been too late. I'm sorry for wasting money we haven't really got, but I only bought a single.'

'Oh, Draco. Don't worry about the money. I honestly thought you were…why, though? Don't you realise what you put me through?'

'When I saw him it was just the final straw. He was your last friend, but even he's gone now.'

'No, no he hasn't, Draco.'

'He has Hermione. You know it too; you were saying goodbye to him.'

'No, I don't think Harry will do that to me, but even if he did**,** do you think that killing yourself would make him come back? Do you think I'd stop working at the centre, or start going out with Ron again?'

Draco hung his head. 'I don't know. I just think I'm no good for you. If I stay with you, this is the rest of your life.'

She put her hand under his chin, lifting his face so that he had to look at her. 'What if I told you I knew that? What if I told you I didn't care? I'm supposed to be intelligent, aren't I? You think I haven't thought it through? Draco, I know all of that, and I don't care. I've found you, and I want to keep hold of you.'

'What happened to not settling down?'

'Things change.'

'Alright. I'll accept your answer, but just tell me this. What would have happened if I hadn't turned up, if I'd got out of the country with Zabini, where would you be now?'

She thought long and hard. 'I don't know. Maybe I wouldn't have realised how bad things were. Maybe I wouldn't have seen how important my work had become.' She looked at him, smiling for the first time since she'd found him. 'Don't you see? That's why you're important, because you've shown me what I had to do.' She stopped speaking, a look of wonderment on her face. 'Maybe it is destiny. Maybe it was meant be.'

She suddenly threw her arms around Draco, hugging him fiercely. 'Don't ever leave me again.'

-o0o-

She insisted that Draco stay in bed for the rest of that day, whilst she nursed him back health. She set to making a large pot of soup, and brought bowls of it in to him every now and again. He, being a man, soon caught on to this and started making the most of it. He would lie there, making the occasion feeble groan and looking at her with pathetic eyes, whilst she fed him. By the end of the evening she was beginning to give him rather suspicious looks.

Eventually she suggested he should go to St Mungo's for a check up, and he had to sheepishly admit he wasn't as bad as he was making out. They were early enough in their relationship for him to get away with no more than a look from her.

He was quite content to stay behind the next day, though, whilst she went in to work. He had been severely hypothermic and would have died if she hadn't found him. His body would take time to recover from that. In the end, it was probably quite a good job he wasn't there.

Kingsley Shacklebolt turned up again.

At first he was all smiles, and asked how the centre was going. Hermione told him all about the Muggle Study courses, and they finalised plans on how to issue identities to people who wanted them. The biggest problem would be Birth Certificates. Kingsley had come up with a scheme where some of his most trusted Aurors would use memory modification charms on the registrars to alter the records - which was highly illegal, of course. He'd had to tell the Muggle Prime Minister what they were doing, and why. The Prime Minister had agreed, and had also arranged to issue special National Insurance Numbers too.

'Oh, Kingsley' Hermione said, 'I can't tell you how grateful I am to you for doing all this. It's going to make a real difference, you know.'

'I know, but it's worth it. You have done a fantastic job here; I'm so proud of you. It honestly didn't think even you could get it to this stage so quickly; it's a remarkable achievement.' Hermione beamed at him. 'So, what do we do with you next?'

The beam fell from her face. 'What do you mean?'

'Once you finish here, of course. When you come back to the Ministry.'

'Well, I don't know. I've not really thought about it; there's still work to be done.'

Kingsley wasn't smiling anymore. 'This place doesn't need you anymore. It's running now, and we can't waste your ability on routine work that can be done by anybody. Anyway, if things carry on as they are, there'll be no need for this place in maybe less than a year.

So, I want you back to the Ministry, fairly soon. If you really want, I'll let you have another month here – just to get it out of your system.' He made it sound like she had some kind of illness.

He smiled at her again. 'But then I've got a new job for you; working in my personal office.'

'Doing what?'

'Learning the rules.'

'What rules? Sorry, Kingsley, I'm not following you.'

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and taking a deep breath. 'That business with The Prophet, you were lucky you know. You made some really quite fundamental errors and needed digging out of a very large hole. If it hadn't had been you…well…'

'I know, I'm sorry. I've made the Editor your enemy, haven't I?'

Kingsley chuckled. 'Don't worry about him; some of my best friends are enemies.' Hermione was confused. 'I'll give him a couple of "strictly off the record" briefings, maybe arrange for a few leaks to find their way onto his desk. We both know how the game's played.'

Hermione still looked totally at sea. 'But…I…it's…'

He leaned forward. 'See what I mean? **You** need to learn the rules now; how to play the game.' He paused, looking deadly serious again. 'You'll need it when you're Minister for Magic.'

Hermione's head snapped up. 'What do you mean? I'll never be Minister for Magic.' Kingsley just looked at her. 'Don't be silly, Kingsley.'

'Why not? There are no…major obstacles.' She was still looking incredulous.

' I don't mean next week. Look, Hermione, I'm forty five; I've been working since I was eighteen. In fifteen or twenty year's time I'll be looking to step aside, so I'll need a replacement.' He shrugged. 'Who better than you? You are the smartest of your generation, by a long way. What you've done here has proved it to me.'

'Harry, of course.'

Kingsley gave a rather nervous laugh and started to scratch the back of his neck. 'Aah, yes…Harry. I suppose a lot of people think that way; hero, The Saviour, all that business with Voldemort.' He looked her straight in the eyes. 'Don't get me wrong, he did a great job but…that was then. If we had a figurehead leader, like a constitutional monarch or a president, he'd be ideal – everyone's first choice, I'll agree.

He'd make a lousy Minister, though. We've already decided he doesn't have the intelligence or the vision needed to handle power. He takes things a little too much at face value, gets too emotional and personal.'

'Who's "we"?'

'The Wizengemot; well, the senior members of it. No, Harry's better off heading up the Auror's Office; it's work he enjoys and he'll be good at it. He'll be the youngest ever, you know; that should please him.'

'You mean it's all planned out already? Harry as Head Auror and me as Minister for Magic? But…what if that's not what people want? I thought we were a democracy?'

'We ARE! Of course we are! That's why we have the Wizengemot! I don't have it all my own way.'

Hermione was staring down at her desk. 'So that between you all you can carve up the jobs.'

'It's in everyone's best interests to get the right person in the right place.'

'"Best interests" or the "Greater Good"?'

'Hermione?' Kingsley's voice sounded a little warning. 'Come on, you know as well as I do that giving people free reign could lead to anarchy. Do you honestly want Mung Fletcher and people of that ilk deciding what's best for Wizardkind? Or what about them out there? Look what happened the last time.' She didn't know how to reply to that one. 'No, of course you don't.

So, here's the plan. You come back to the Ministry and work directly for me. We'll break you in slowly, of course; researcher, secretary to think tanks, that kind of thing. Once you've got the hang of it we can start expanding your role, put you in the limelight a bit more. Like I say, let you learn the ropes.'

He gave a short laugh. 'You've got extraordinary ability you know. Once you can play the game, be a bit of a street fighter, you're going to be phenomenal. We just need to knock some of the smooth edges off you, toughen you up a bit.'

'What if they don't want me?'

'The public? Well, you've got fifteen years to persuade them they do.'

Hermione found herself unable to look at him. 'So…the public wants what the public gets?'

'I wouldn't have quite put it that way myself. They get the best person for the job.'

'According to you and the Wizengemot.'

Kingsley decided to ignore that one. 'Like I said I'll give you a month to sort things out here, then the real work starts.'

'What about Draco? What happens to him when this place shuts?'

Kingsley shrugged. 'He's a very minor player. He takes his chances along with everyone else.'

'Would there be a job for him at the Ministry?'

'Aah…there are limits. Umm…' Kingsley looked a little awkward, '…you may…want to have a think about him - best interests and all that. I'll see myself out.'


	18. Chapter 18

Hermione went home by Muggle transport that night, taking the tube and then a bus. It was a slow journey but it gave her time to think. She had to do the last part on foot, crossing the park they had visited. She saw the play area and went to sit on the swings. It felt good to have the wind blowing past her face and through her hair. It felt free and liberating and took her back to her childhood.

Life was easier then. Choices were deciding between vanilla or chocolate ice cream. It was never both because her parents didn't really approve of it. They were dentists and knew how much sugar ice cream contained. When she was born they'd decided to keep her away from sweet things as much as possible. They would educate her palate so that she appreciated savoury food too. They were her parents, so knew what was best for her.

They weren't wrong of course. Children have to be protected from themselves, on occasions. Even the most liberal minded, who considered children to be "tiny adults", put up fireguards and taught road safety.

Night had fallen and the lights of the city began to twinkle in the distance. She should go home; Draco would be worrying about her.

Checking there was nobody in sight she turned and disappeared with a "pop". But, she wasn't going back to the flat, not just yet.

-o0o-

Renee opened the door, and there was a surprised look on her face. 'Hello, Hermione love. What brings you here?'

'Can I see the picture of you and Bert again, please?'

They sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea. Renee had put the picture on the table.

'Now, you didn't come all this way just to look at a picture. What's wrong?'

Hermione put her head in her hands. She felt so tired, and it was comforting to be in such a domestic place.

'Did you ever regret what you did? Did you ever think …'

'Not once, love.'

'So you never argued?'

Renee let out a laugh. 'Argue? Of course we did.' She pointed at the door. 'D'you see that dent in the frame, and there's a chunk of wood knocked out? That's where I threw the rolling pin at him!'

Hermione looked at Renee with wide eyed amazement. Renee just laughed again.

'His cousin had decided to come over here as well, to try his luck. There wasn't much work back at home for him, so he came here. Bert went down to the docks to meet his boat, whilst I stayed behind and got a meal ready. Well' Renee gave another chuckle, 'they went to the pub instead. By the time they got back they were drunk, and the food was ruined. Bert tried to turn on the old Caribbean charm, but I was having none of it! He slept on the settee that night, too!'

She gave Hermione a warm smile. 'Of course we argued, everyone does. But no, I never regretted it. We were happy, you see. We never had much money, but we were happy with what we had.'

'Would your life have been different, if you'd never met him?'

Renee shrugged. 'I don't know. Probably not too different; I'd have worked in a shop or a factory until I got married, then stopped once we had kids. That's what you did in those days. Of course, we never did…'

'You haven't got children?'

'No, we decided not to. It would have been hard for them being mixed back then, not like today. Those were the rules, you see, and we knew them. Perhaps…but it's too late now anyway.'

Hermione drained her cup and made to stand. 'I should be off.'

'Why don't your parents take to him? He seems nice enough.'

'He got into a bit of trouble a while back.'

'Were the police involved?'

'No. He just got in with the wrong crowd. He's past all that now, but people just won't let **it** go.'

'"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong." Gandhi said that.' Hermione looked surprised and Renee laughed. 'Bet you never expected that from me, did you?' Hermione shook her head. 'I always admired him, Gandhi. He was as thin as a rake but strong, and he stood up to us, the whole Empire. Did it all peacefully as well. Shame about the others.'

'Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Renee.'

Renee walked her to the door. 'I can't tell you what to do, love, and I wouldn't even if I could. This one's down to you – and him.'

Hermione nodded. 'I know. Thank you.'

-o0o-

Draco was waiting for her when she got home, with a hug and a kiss. 'Tough day? You're late back.'

'It was a bit, and I needed to get a few things sorted out. I'd better start on dinner.'

'Sit down; it's all under control. Well, pie from the shop and some veg.' She sank into the chair, listening to him chatting on inconsequentially about his day.

They sat on the sofa after dinner. He'd made a big thing about getting the food ready, and putting the plate in front of her. Then, afterwards, he'd washed up all on his own, saying it was only fair because she'd been out all day.

'Draco? Have we got anything planned for the weekend?'

He shook his head. 'Nothing special. Why, what do you have in mind?'

She took his hand in hers. 'I think we should go to Hogsmeade again.'

He turned to her, his face very serious. 'What brought this on?'

'I saw Kingsley today; he wants me back at the Ministry. Soon.'

'Hermione, you have to think carefully about this. If you give up the Ministry…you'd do well there. Who knows what you could end up being?' He laughed. 'Maybe even Minister!' She tried to laugh with him, but couldn't. 'You'd be giving up a lot by leaving them.'

She gave him a hug. 'No', she thought, 'I'd be giving up far more if I went back.'

-o0o-

He made to give her a goodnight kiss, as usual. 'I'll see you in the morning.'

She held on to him. 'Why wait that long?'

-o0o-

Hermione paced the Office, waiting for Kingsley to arrive.

'Hermione, will you please sit down; you're making me feel dizzy!' She sat.

It had been three weeks since her last meeting with Kingsley. He asked her to come into the Ministry to discuss things, but she'd pleaded pressure of work at the centre. Eventually he'd sent an owl saying he would be in the next day.

Draco looked at her. 'It's not too late to change your mind. You know that, don't you?'

She nodded. 'It's fine. It's what I want.'

'You're sure?'

'Yes.' She looked certain, now. 'What about you? It affects both of us.'

'Yes, I'm certain.' He took her hand in his. 'I'm certain.'

A short while later Kingsley arrived, all smiles. Draco offered him a seat. Kingsley smiled again.

'Would you mind giving us a bit of space please, Mr Malfoy?'

'He can stay' said Hermione.

Kingsley's smiled faltered for a moment. 'This is a personnel matter.'

'And I'm allowed representation' said Hermione, sweetly.

Kingsley nodded; it made little difference. 'So, I've got you an office organised, quite close to me. We might as well make it Monday. Now, I normally have a team meeting at 9 o'clock, it makes sense for you to be there and I can introduce…'

'You're making an assumption there, Kingsley.'

'Monday isn't suitable? Hermione, I did say a month…'

'You're making an assumption that I'm coming back.'

Kingsley sat in silence for a moment, before chuckling. 'Well, of course you are.'

'No, I'm not.' She held out an envelope. 'It's my resignation.'

He looked at it as if it would bite him. 'Hermione, I'm not taking it. Look…we discussed this before. This place doesn't need you anymore. Alright, I'll say it again; you've done a fantastic job. Happy? You're wasted here.'

'I'm not staying here.'

Kingsley looked confused. 'Where, then?'

'I've been…we've been talking to Aberforth Dumbledore. He inherited all of Albus' money, and hasn't got anything to do with it. He's got no-one to leave it to, so he wants to use it. He wants to set up a foundation, in his sister's name.'

'To do what?'

'What happens to Squibs, Kingsley?'

Kingsley still looked confused. 'Well they…I'm not sure. The Ministry doesn't…'

'Care?'

'NO! Of course it does. It…well…they're not magical are they?'

'No, they're not. They're not Muggles either. And, to answer your question, it does nothing for them. How many squibs are there in Britain?'

'I'd have to…I don't know. We don't keep a record.'

'Exactly, nobody does. Nobody cares. They're the embarrassments that are swept under the carpet. It's better not to mention them, eh?'

'That's hardly fair…I mean…' He looked at her warily. 'So what's your plan, and where does the Ministry come into it?'

'The Ministry doesn't; they aren't magical, are they? The plan is for a residential training centre; a school for Squibs where they can learn and get qualifications; either for this world or the Muggle one. Actually, that is where you come in. They might need new identities. Oh, it'll also be a place where free Elves can come to, until they can find a new position. Aberforth had a great deal of respect for Dobby, so it'll also be the headquarters for S.P.E.W.'

'And you're going to run this place?' Hermione nodded and Kingsley looked at Draco. 'With you working for her?'

'With her.'

'If it makes you happier' said Hermione, with a smile.

'Wait!' said Kingsley. 'Hermione, you're giving up _everything_ to run a school for Squibs and House Elves? The smartest witch of your generation and you're throwing it all away?'

Hermione pursed her lips. 'Have you ever seen me on a broom, Kingsley?'

'I know you're not very confident' he said slowly, a little cautiously, 'that's why we went by Thestral.' He wondered where this was leading.

'No, trust me, I'm hopeless. So I never played Quidditch. Which meant there was no point learning the rules. The same goes for Chess and Gobstones; I always lose, so I don't bother anymore. I'm no good at games, you see, Kingsley. I can't play them.'

Kingsley held his hands up, pacifyingly. 'Look…maybe I went a bit over the top with the game business. It's important work, Hermione. It needs doing properly, that's what I meant…Alright, not rules – parameters.'

'Set by the Wizengemot.'

'That's their job.'

'One thing I've often wondered; how do you get to be a member?' She sounded very innocent when she asked, as if she honestly didn't know the answer.

'You're nominated.'

'By whom?'

'The…by the other Members.'

'The Old Boy's Network?'

'There are some women' said Kingsley, defensively. He knew where this was going, now.

'But they're the "right sort", of course. Tell me, when I become Minister' – Draco's head spun to stare at her – 'what if I decide that the Wizengemot should be elected?' Kingsley's head swivelled round as well. 'Free elections, like the Muggles have?'

'So Mung Fletcher could stand? Ridiculous!' Kingsley snorted.

'Who'd stop me?'

'Well, the Wizen…like I said, there are parameters.'

'The same "parameters" that would stop, say, Draco joining? Even in twenty years time?'

Kingsley didn't answer her. 'So you're going to run a school, instead.'

'Yes, I am' she said, in a very final way, 'and, who knows, once it's up and running and I become a respectable member of society, I might be invited to join the Wizengemot.' Kingsley looked automatically to Draco. 'Ah, of course, there's nowhere to leave the baggage, is there?'

She held out the envelope again. Kingsley took it and put it away in his cloak pocket. His eyes were sad as he looked at her.

'You don't have to be a professional thorn in my side, Hermione. You can just pop in to say "Hello" every now and again, you know.'

She smiled, a little sadly. 'I will – if it suits my game plan.'

He gave a resigned laugh. 'You could have been great, you know. Maybe…just maybe, you could have pulled it off.'

-o0o-

'You never told me' Draco said. Her eyes couldn't – wouldn't - meet his. 'You never told me about the Minister part.'

'It was never going to happen, that's why.'

'It could have, if it wasn't for me…for the baggage.'

She put her arms around him. 'Draco, I love you. Nothing else matters. Certainly not their games.'

'But how long for, Hermione? One day, I don't know when, isn't the past going to catch up with us? You can't forgive that, can you?'

'"Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong." I'm strong, so yes, I can. That's why I love you. Maybe forgiveness is the final form of love.'


	19. Chapter 19

EPILOGUE

The family walked towards the station, the boy edging ever closer to his mother as they proceeded. 'Do you want to hold my hand?' she asked him quietly, and felt rather clammy skin pressing into hers.

'I'm not scared.'

'That's alright then.'

'Mummy?'

'Yes?'

'I am a little bit.'

She gave his hand a squeeze. 'So are all the others.'

'Really?' His voice was the most hopeful it had been all morning.

'Of course. It can be a bit scary at first, but within a couple of days you'll make friends and play Quidditch and gobstones and it will all be alright. You'll see.'

'Were you and daddy friends at school?'

Draco caught his wife's eye and suppressed a smile. 'We…knew each other.'

Scorpius held his mother's hand tightly and closed his eyes as they walked straight at the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 at King's Cross. When he didn't smack into anything he opened them again and looked around in amazement. There were people everywhere, more than even Diagon Alley, and cats and owls and steam and a huge train and just everything! There were children, too. Hundreds and hundreds of them.

Scorpius had had a very quiet life until now. Not lonely – he didn't think so, anyway, but quiet. His parents ran a school deep in the Gloucestershire countryside – it was called the Dumbledore Foundation, and located in Ariana Mansion. Scorpius wondered about that because over a lot of the doors was a letter M, in a shield. His dad told him it stood for "Mansion", which seemed logical enough but Scorpius secretly thought it should stand for "Malfoy" because his parents were in charge.

They didn't have many visitors and it was rare for them to ever leave it, except when they went on holiday. Then, for two weeks, they would go to the seaside and he always enjoyed that. They always went somewhere with sand, and he and his dad would spend hours building sandcastles; some of them were huge. Once they were built they would all hold hands and then jump on them and his parents would laugh so hard that sometimes they couldn't stand up properly.

They had ice cream every day, too, and on the last day he was allowed to have whatever flavours he wanted. He loved holidays, and sometimes he would meet other children and play with them.

At home the only other children around were the ones at the school, and they left over the summer. Anyway, until recently he'd been too young to really get to know them.

The Malfoys made their way to the end of the platform and watched the clock tick the seconds down. Part of Scorpius wanted it to stop so he wouldn't have to leave, but part of him craved this new adventure.

The steam cleared briefly at one point, and they saw a group standing not too far away; four adults and five children. Two of the adults had bright red hair, and were obvious related. With them were a woman with darker skin and long black hair, and a man with sticking up black hair and glasses. Scorpius recognised that man; he visited them very occasionally and his mummy was always pleased when he did. It looked like three of the children, two boys and a girl, were getting ready for the train.

'So that's little Rose Weasley is it?' said Draco. 'Hogwart's newest princess. Make sure you beat her in every test, Scorpius. Thank Merlin you inherited your mother's brains.'

'Draco!' said Hermione Malfoy, half outraged and half laughing. 'Don't try and set them against each other before they've even started school!'

She crouched in front of her son, giving him a hug by pretending to smooth non-existent creases out of the new robes he had already changed in to. 'Don't get too friendly with her though, Scorpius. I don't think daddy will be too impressed if you marry a pureblood.'

Draco chuckled. 'And, for the life of me, I can't imagine what Granddad Lucius would have thought of the idea!'

Hermione stood up and gave Draco a kiss.

'Urrgghh, mum! Do you have to do that in public?' They were always hugging and kissing.

Hermione looked along the platform, and saw Harry looking back at her. She gave him a half smile, and saw him raise his hand to her before her eyes misted over.

-o0o-

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. 'Go and say "Hello" if you want.'

'Are you sure?'

'Of course, mate' said Ron. 'James and I can handle the trunks, can't we Jamsie?' James Potter nodded.

'No, I mean…are you OK with it?'

Ron smiled. 'Sure I am. It was a long time ago. Why shouldn't you talk to her just because I'm here? You didn't have a row.'

Harry looked around the group and saw his wife, Ginny, nodding in agreement and smiling. 'She is your friend, and you haven't been to see her for ages.'

'Yes, I think you should go' said Padma Weasley, softly. She looked at her husband and back to Harry. 'Maybe it's time to put the past behind us. See if they'll come and have coffee with us once the train's left.'

Harry started walking along the platform, his steps getting faster and faster until he broke into a run.

All would be well.

Fin

* * *

AN: I must thank everybody who has reviewed, alerted and favourited this story. And big thanks once again to **(**xCailinNollaigx) who has been such a good beta. I'll say it again, she's a good writer, too.


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